Stories for Everafter
by ALovedOne
Summary: Collection of oneshots inspired by various prompts. Chapter 7: "You've been dating your partner for six months. Tonight they've invited you to a work event, and as you step onto the red carpet, you realize it for the first time: you're dating a celebrity."
1. Chapter 1

**Taken from the castlefanficprompts tumblr page:** _"Your mom was one of the best detectives and youngest to ever make Captain. Your dad is a world famous author of multi series. Not to mention your older sister is a scholastic genius. You have a lot to live up too. But poor Lily is almost out of high school and has no clue what she wants to be in life. She feels like a failure. Maybe her family can help her out."_

 **A/N:** Okay this story is a bit of a mess, but practice makes perfect right? This is a oneshot, but I have decided to use this story thing to create a collection of prompt fills (so each chapter will be a oneshot for a prompt). I'm currently taking prompts from the castlefanficprompts page and browsing it for inspiration, but should there be any specific requests, please just let me know. Hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

The loft is quiet when Lily settles on the couch, her computer in her lap, pamphlets spread all around her. Spring break has just begun, and everyone but her was out somewhere. Jake and Reece are on a school trip to D.C., her dad had gone to the library a few hours ago to write because he kept getting distracted by all the videogames and other things he could play with at his home, and her mom texted her to let her know that she was working late and that she could order dinner for herself.

Lily had just ordered Chinese takeout, a habit she had picked up really quickly from her family early on in life, before deciding to sit down and use the rare opportunity of being in the living room with no interruptions.

* * *

She is eighteen now, and graduation is fast approaching. All her peers seem to be able to discuss these days are which college they would all be attending. Lily had been to several college fairs, had had numerous discussions with her guidance counselor, and had tried to listen to see what her friends had to say about the topic, but she eventually had to admit that she was lost.

The pamphlets that she had picked up at the college fairs hadn't been of much help, but she really felt pressure to make up her mind. Everyone already had some form of idea of what they wanted to do with their future – everyone but her. And she can't help but think that she should have something in mind too. So she wants to take this evening to go through every bit of information that she had collected and have a brainstorm session during which she would conjure up possible career paths that may interest her even in the slightest.

With a sigh, Lily opens a random pamphlet and reads through the information she had already memorized once more. They all sounded the same after some time. Every college promised to offer the best opportunities, an inspiring community, great preparation for the workplace, and an experience of a lifetime. But none of them told her what they could do with a student that had no direction in mind.

Six pamphlets in, the doorbell rings, and she welcomes the temporary interruption of the food delivery. She returns to the couch, unpacks her dinner, and munches on her dinner while her thoughts continue to race through her head, caught in a loop. What was she meant to be doing? What was she good at? Why did everyone always appear to be so ready to tackle to future and fulfilling their dream of becoming a successful this or that, while she struggled to even pin down what job she wouldn't hate to have?

* * *

The rattling of a key outside the door startles her. She hasn't expected her mom home so soon after the text, but when the door swings open, she realizes that it isn't actually her mother returning from work, but rather her older sister entering the loft.

"Hey," Alexis calls in her direction while taking off her shoes and looking through the open living space. "You home alone?"

"Yeah," answers Lily, rushing to get up and hug Alexis. When she was younger, Alexis had played with her all the time, babysat her when her dad was away on a book tour and her mom tied up at work.

Now, she didn't get to see her all that much anymore, since Alexis's occupation as one of New York's top lawyers constantly kept her busy. And if she wasn't at work, she was spending time with her husband and her child.

"Well this is unexpected. What brings you here?" Lily asks as she returns to the couch, Alexis following her.

"Matt's taking Luke to the planetarium. I didn't really feel like tagging along today, so I thought I could come by for a visit. It's been a while… Oh," Alexis pauses as she spots the mess of pamphlets that Lily had left in an unorganized pile. "It looks like you've been busy."

"Yeah…," Lily grumbles in response. She looks up to see Alexis eye her with amusement of her face. "What?"

"You don't exactly look pleased or excited to be picking out colleges," her sister remarks.

"Oh… No, no, it's fine, it's fun really. Exciting stuff," Lily murmurs, already knowing that she is doing a very poor job hiding lying. What was she trying to lie to an amazing lawyer anyway?

Alexis chuckles. "You wanna talk about it?"

Lily considers it for a moment. "I just… I don't know what to do. I don't know what I _want_ to do."

"And you think you should?" Alexis questions with a knowing look on her face.

"I mean, yeah," she lets out in an exasperated sigh. "It feels like _everybody_ knows what they wanna do. All of my friends do, and you should hear my teachers. They make it sound like you're supposed to have some sort of epiphany, some sort of calling that tells you where you're supposed to go in life. And then I look at all of you, and I can't help but wonder if that's really what it's supposed to be like."

She lets all of her thoughts spill out. So far, she has never felt comfortable enough admitting how lost she really is, always felt like she was revealing a weakness no one else - especially no one in her family - seemed to have, but she no longer thinks she can hide her frustration.

"What makes you think that?" Alexis calmly asks, looking genuinely interested in Lily's dilemma.

So she finally decides to reveal the thoughts that had been nagging at her for weeks, maybe even months. "Look at all of you," she starts, "you have it all figured out, everyone in this family does. Do you know how frustrating that can be?"

Alexis laughs. "I think I have an idea."

"Do you?" Lily exclaims, now unable to stop herself. "Dad's known he wanted to be a writer ever since he was young. And he didn't just know what he wanted to be, he just went ahead and published his first novel while still in college. And soon after that, he had bestseller after bestseller. He was even able to kill off one of his freaking bestselling characters. And what did he do? He just created a new one."

Alexis drops her head to hide her smile from Lily, who is clearly upset. She takes her sister's worries seriously, but the memories that just ermerged cause her to smirk nonetheless. She remembers how her dad's publisher and agent had scolded him for giving up Derrick Storm, how even her dad – although not regretting his decision – had struggled to write for months… before eventually meeting Kate and suddenly defeating his writer's block and creating another hit series. Though never questioning her dad's talent, even she had been amazed at his ability to recover so successfully.

She pays attention to Lily again. "Then you have Mom, who is basically the best detective ever, youngest to have become Captain, and then she decided that she wanted more... and became Senator. I know she had to work hard and all, but she just seems to always _know_ what the right thing to do is, and once she decides that she wants something, she makes it work. Something always drives her, motivates her somehow."

Lily gets up to pace around the room, unable to sit still. She kicks a few brochures that have fallen to the floor, so relieved that she is finally able to talk about this particular insecurity.

"My older sister aced pretty much every subject in school and college. Not to mention all your extracurricular activities. I mean, you won like how many trophies?" Lily briefly pauses to look at Alexis and give her a slight smile. She doesn't want her sister to think that she isn't proud of all the accomplishments, isn't happy that she had such an amzing sister to look up to. But when Alexis returns her smile, she feels that it is safe to continue. "And of course, you weren't just successful academically, but you also managed to take care of Dad's P.I. business back then, and eventually, you became this amazing lawyer. Have you ever even lost a case?" she jokes, knowing very well that there had been a few.

"Nope," Alexis replies with the straightest face she can manage. "I am undefeatable."

That at least manages to make Lily laugh before returning to list off her family's success stories.

"Even Jake and Reece already have some direction in their life. Jake's a pro at just about every sport, so he'll probably become an athlete sooner or later, and Reece inherited the theater gene, which is working out great for him too. He was already a child actor on Broadway, how many get to say that of themselves?"

* * *

Again, Alexis thinks back, acknowledging the sadness that comes with the memory. Grams had been thrilled that at least someone else in her family shared her passion for acting. As soon as Reece could walk and sort of talk, he and her grandma had put on small productions for the family. Grams was also the one that found out whenever a production was in need of a child and was relentless in convincing his parents to let him audition. Martha watched with pride as her grandson performed on stage, kept every single program his name was in.

She passed away a few years ago, and after her funeral, the family gathered and read the script for the one woman show she'd put on before Kate and Richard had even been dating out loud. It was then that they had discovered that there was a second act, one that described how she had an even more successful life than before – both as a revived Broadway star, and as a proud grandmother of four amazing grandchildren.

* * *

"Alexis?" The older woman looks up and notices that Lily has interrupted her rant to eye her with concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, I just remembered something… But listen, Lily, I understand. Believe me, I do," Alexis rushes to assure, returning to the topic of Lily's apparent early midlife crisis.

Lily, who had become increasingly worked up throughout her speech, slowly goes back to the couch and sinks down. "I find that hard to believe," she mumbles.

Alexis takes a breath, taking a moment to conjure up the right words to say, to explain to her younger sibling that her own choice of a career path was not as easy as Lily perceives it to be. But she also understands that this may be difficult to hear from an adult who mostly had her life on track and whose high school experience was years in the past. Many years. Alexis pulls a face at the thought, earning a puzzled look from the girl opposite her.

"I just remembered I'm old," she explains, causing Lily to laugh at her.

"And you point is?" Lily prompts.

"My point is," Alexis begins, "that, although I'm old and have a job that I love, that wasn't always the case. As a matter of fact, I'd gone to college for two or three years already when I came to our dad with the same concerns you have now. I felt lost too," she admitted. "I had a lot of interests, I was good at a lot of things. But I didn't have one key moment that drove me to do something specifically."

When she sees the confused look on Lily's face, she tries to elaborate. "As you know, your mom had her own mom's murder that made her want to be a cop. Dad read a book that inspired him to become a writer, and witnessed a horrific event that pushed him towards figuring out crime stories. But I didn't have that. I had a collection of events happening that made me realize what I wanted to do. Saving a man from being punished for a crime he didn't commit was one. Talking to Kate about her mom's work another, but those are just examples. And once I decided that this was the path I wanted to pursue, I fully dove in, and worked, and worked and studied like crazy. I didn't find my passion, I chose it. No calling. No dream that I'd been working towards since my childhood. Just my strong interest and my choice."

She pauses, but senses that her sister is still unsure. "Look, you know what Dad told me back then? 'Every experience you ever had, every seeming mistake or blind alley, was actually a straight line to who you were meant to be,'" she quotes. "Discovering your path in life is different for everyone."

It is silent for a moment during which Lily tries to figure out what the speech she just listened to means for her. And if she even understands.

"All of my friends know what they wanna do," Lily mentions.

"Well, good for them." Alexis shrugs. "Although I'm certain that they aren't as sure as you may think. Or maybe they are, but when they start their courses, they might realize that it is nothing like they imagined it. Or they realize that they want to do something else entirely. I had a friend who stopped pursuing a degree in law and started taking art classes instead. And you know who else changed their mind?"

Lily looks up at Alexis, noticing the slight smirk on her face. "Who?" she gives in.

"Your mom. She had a genuine interest in law and a serious goal. But her life ended up changing so much and so did her goals in life. And I don't know about you, but I'd certainly say that changing her career didn't indicate failure. And even now, she is chasing new challenges and passions all the time. Becoming a cop wasn't an all-fulfilling thing. So even when you're an adult, have a career, have a family – there is still always time to find new passions. And I think life turned out pretty well for her."

Alexis leans back, finally seeing her words have some positive impact on her sister, and the hints of a hopeful look appearing on the girl's face. "That being said, if you want, we can get together sometime this weekend. We could discuss your interests, and then maybe see if you can do some internships that can provide you with some insights into some jobs. How does that sound?"

Lily's lips finally quirk upwards, a thankful smile now clearly visible on her face. "I'd like that."

* * *

Eventually, the girls decide to shove the college brochures aside, abandon the serious life-advice conversation, and begin to chat about Alexis's family, recent movies, and who Lily will go to prom with and oh gosh what will she wear.

Not much later, Castle and Beckett come home to them. Both tactfully ignore the brochures that they notice scattered around the floor and join in on the lighthearted conversation. Both are aware that their daughter had become increasingly distressed over her future, but could also sense that Lily didn't want to discuss it with anyone yet. However, it now appeared as though she had finally opened up, and by the looks of it, Alexis had been successful in soothing some of her worries, at least for now.

When it starts to become late, they all get up to tell Alexis goodbye as she returns home to her own family. Their next small family reunion at the Hamptons is already planned, and the promise of a get-together so soon makes it easier to send her home.

"Thank you," Lily whispers as she hugs Alexis at the door.

"That's what sisters are for."


	2. Chapter 2

**Taken from the castlefanficprompts tumblr page:** "Pre or post. One day in the middle of a discussion Kate yells that for just one day she would like to Castle to be a serious person (no making jokes, playing around, touching everything, etc). So her wish is attended by the universe and by the end of this day, she totally hates and wants her Castle back."

 **A/N** : Thank you all for the encouraging words. I hope this new prompt fill lives up to your expectations as well.

* * *

 **Set in season 5**

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Castle!" Kate exclaims, causing a few heads turn as a result.

They just interviewed a potential suspect, a manager from a big electronics company. They could not risk bringing him in for questioning just yet, since their suspicions against him were still based on assumptions and very loose connections – things that a man with his money and power could easily dismiss. She also wanted to talk to him while he wasn't aware that he was a suspect, which often caused people to speak to her more freely and less guarded.

She had made the drive to the company, bringing Castle along. The conversation had been normal, and although Beckett would never dismiss a suspect based on a friendly conversation, there had been no red flags that would cause her to push him further. So after fifteen minutes – a timeframe during which they were given brief insights into both the man's personal life and the company's current projects – Beckett eventually got up from her seat, thanked the manager for his time, and turned to leave.

But Castle, who she could tell had become increasingly excited over the course of the conversation, only slowly rose from his seat. He insisted on asking two more questions on a current project, before Beckett tugged on his arm to make him stop.

When they were in the elevator, she turned to face him and asked him why he had such a particular interest in the project. At first, she thought that there might have been a very good reason that had prompted him to ask more questions; he could very well have picked up a small detail that she missed… but when Castle presented her with his newest theory, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Which had caused him to spin a tale so wild and absurd that she grew impatient and angry that he apparently did not take their victim's death seriously.

* * *

"A man was murdered!" she yells at him once they make it outside.

"Yes, I know. I'm trying to catch the killer here," he counters.

She huffs. "No. You're trying to write a science fiction novel and, in your head, that manager is a perfect villain."

"Come on! He was way too nice and forthcoming. When has someone in his position ever let you question him for a full fifteen minutes, which, by the way, is a lot of time in his work? He wasn't even the slightest bit annoyed," Castle explains, eager to make Beckett understand his reasoning. "He was trying way too hard to appear unsuspicious. Not to mention his work and what it gives him access to."

"What it gives him access to? Castle, he works for an electronics company. One that just so happens to currently be involved with other companies in developing robotic technology. Something that a bunch of other companies have tried too," she tries to reason.

"Yeah, but those companies didn't have one of their factory workers murdered by a robot!"

They continue walking along the sidewalk until they reach the car. Once they both get in and Beckett starts to drive back to the precinct, she picks the discussion up again. She knows that he would probably move away from his current crazy theory and provide her with new ones once they had new leads, but she is in an irritable mood today and not willing to let Castle turn her victim's death into an entertaining story.

"He was _not_ murdered by a robot," Beckett insists.

"He totally was. The guy had a life-sized stormtrooper in his apartment. One that had technology built into it that gave it the ability to move. _And_ ," he adds, excitement clearly visible in his eyes, "Lanie found gunshot residue on the plastic. It's obvious. Someone programmed the stormtrooper to kill him."

Castle leans back in his seat, pleased with his explanation. It makes perfect sense, but Beckett had just walked away from the man for whom the trick was easily possible. Except –

"So our vic was a nerd and owned a stormtrooper. He also developed some technology for the firm. Probably just wanted to test it out. And the thing didn't move, it wobbled. And lifted his arms, so…"

"Raising an arm is enough to point a gun at someone," Castle interrupted.

"Seriously? You're sticking with that theory?"

* * *

Their discussion continued until they were at the doors of the precinct. Castle had stuck with his theory, and Beckett had become more and more annoyed.

"God, Castle!" she yells at him in frustration, not caring who hears them. Just wants him to stop speaking about evil robots. "You've had a good amount of crazy theories. And I have to admit, some of them were pretty entertaining… for a while. But our investigations are apparently just fun field trips to you. After vampires, zombies, ghosts, and your secret society of Santas, this is too much. I'm trying to solve a murder here. Someone is dead, and all you can do is invent a story. Would you _please_ just take something serious for once?"

She isn't usually one to yell at him, usually sticks to groaning sarcastic comments during their arguments, and by the time she finishes her speech, she definitely regrets raising her voice. He looks like he has been slapped across the face.

"Inventing stories is what I do, Kate," he murmurs.

"I know, I…," she begins, but he doesn't let her finish.

"I'll head back home. I'm sure you guys will be able to handle everything just fine without me. See you tomorrow."

He turns around and walks off to hail a taxi. Beckett decides to give him space. It's probably for the best and allow both of them to calm down. She's determined to pull him to the side tomorrow and apologize for snapping at him today. But until then, she has to try and catch a killer, and standing alone on a sidewalk will certainly not help her find one. With a sigh, she spins and opens the door, entering her workplace and eager to close this case as fast as possible so that they can all put it behind them.

When she returns to her apartment at night, she checks her phone. A lot of nights, she actually goes to his place after work, but there are still plenty of nights that she spends at her own home. On these nights, they always call each other. In fact, considering that she got home even later than usual, she would normally have at least one missed call or text from him already. But of course, tonight wasn't completely normal and her heart sinks when she sees the lack of notifications.

In an attempt to at least attempt to set things right, she dials his number. It goes straight to voicemail. Frustrated and just wanting this day to end, Kate gets ready for bed. After turning around a couple of times, her body eventually succumbs to the exhaustion.

* * *

She wakes before her alarm, the fight with Castle still bothering her and causing her sleep to be restless. She briefly closes her eyes again and tries to find the motivation to move, but she is not looking forward to dealing with a case that still had no obvious suspect even after tracing just about every encounter the victim had with a human being during the past months. And she definitely doesn't want to deal with it while her boyfriend is still mad at her and likely to sit in his seat sulking all day – or if he decides to bring up a murderous robot again.

Kate enjoys the few minutes she gets to relax before her alarm lets her know that it is time to get her day started. She gets ready, leaves her apartment and makes it to the precinct, already looking forward to the moment that she can return to her bed.

He isn't there to greet her with coffee, and so she just starts to catch up with Ryan and Esposito to see if they had any revelations overnight, but she is disappointed. After an hour of research, she decides to shoot him a text.

 _You coming?_

She just pressed send when she hears footsteps approaching her desk. She looks up to see Castle smile down at her, a cup of coffee in both hands. He places one on her desk before taking a seat.

"Thanks," she whispers. "Listen…"

"Where are we on the case?" he inquires before she can say anything else.

"I.. um..," she struggles, thrown off by how casually he asks the question. No hint of anger, and also no hint of excitement that would indicate that he had further developed his theory overnight. "We're looking at two other people currently. His ex-girlfriend that was outraged that he spent more time with his robots than her, and a co-worker who claims that our vic stole his ideas and presented them to the company to have all the glory. He was pretty vocal about it too, sent a bunch of letters to his supervisor, angry texts to our victim's phone. It looks like he is our best bet," she concludes, awaiting some form of protest.

"Makes sense," is all he says.

"Really?" she asks, not able to believe that Castle abandoned his evil robot theory after being so convinced yesterday.

He shrugs. "Yes. Jealousy and profiting from someone else's work. Good motives."

Beckett sinks back in her chair, relieved although somewhat confused by his apparent sudden change of heart. Maybe this means that he understood why she had been so mad at him yesterday and was just as ready as she was to just put this all behind them.

"We're bringing in the co-worker now and Ryan and Espo are talking to the ex as we speak." She looks up, seeing some uniforms escort their suspect to one of the interrogation rooms. "As a matter of fact, he is here now. Do you wanna join the interrogation?" she offers as a subtle peace offering.

"No, I think I'll stay in the observation room. I don't want to get in the way or ask the wrong question that might make distract from the investigation."

He says it in a neutral tone, but she realizes that his words might allude to yesterday's interview. "Is this about you still being convinced that a robot killed our vic?" she asks with a sigh.

Castle's neutral expression is replaced by a look of confusion. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Are you still upset that I didn't let you question the manager further on his robot technology?" she pushes.

He furrows his brow. "What are you talking about? The manager answered every question. Seemed like a nice guy. Don't think he's our killer though. He didn't avoid any of the topics we questioned him on, so unless we missed a really important one, he isn't a likely suspect, at least unless we stumble across something that would give him motive."

"That's… surprisingly reasonable," she stutters.

He gives her a small smile in response. Silence falls between them for a moment as Beckett holds his gaze. Something definitely seems off. Only a few hours ago, he had insisted that the manager should be a prime suspect, been convinced that a robot had executed the murder, and been upset when she told him to stop making stuff up. And now, none of that showed.

Castle breaks the silence. "Weren't you going to interview the co-worker?"

She blinks a few times, snapping out of it. "Yes, of course."

Beckett gets up to walk to the interrogation rooms, Castle following her. They part ways at the doors, and while she heads in to question the suspect, Castle observes everything from behind the mirror. The suspect is nervous, it's easy to tell, but he doesn't crack, provides a solid alibi, and has to be let go after his alibi proves to be true.

The two return to her desk. He doesn't say much besides stating that it is a shame that one of the most likely suspects was not their guy.

"No theory on how he programmed the robot to kill him with a timer?" she tries to joke, but he shows no real reaction.

"Could be possible, but that seems like a bit of a stretch, right? Aren't they analyzing the stormtrooper right now? I'm sure they're taking it apart right now, and should there be anything that could be related to the victim's death, I'm sure they'll let us know. Now," he starts, moving on to a different topic without sharing more thoughts on the robot, "what about that ex-girlfriend that Ryan and Esposito talked to?"

She sighs. "That's a bust too. She was out partying with friends. There are two men from security and a bartender who say that they saw her during the time of the murder. So it looks like we're out of suspects again," she grudgingly admits.

"Don't say that just yet!" calls a voice from across the bullpen.

Ryan walks towards them, his cell in his hand. "They just called. Say they found some interesting technology inside the stormtrooper. It was still under development, and there was a small team of five people working on it. One was our victim, one the angry co-worker, so that only leaves three others that are familiar with all the equipment."

Beckett gets up. "Road trip to the factory?"

Castle is already standing, and the two make their way to her car. She had expected the new information to spark a new wave of explanations of how an evil robot could have been used to kill someone. At the very least, she had expected him to gloat and tell her that she should have listened to him yesterday. But he remains silent.

They ride in silence until she can't take it anymore.

"What's wrong?" She shortly turns her head to look at him before turning her eyes back on the road. She can feel him watching her.

"Nothing. Why?" he replies.

"Just… I don't know," she mumbles.

She doesn't want to start another fight in the car, but she isn't sure she prefers the new arrangement either. With Castle, there were almost no quiet moments. But when there were any, it was comfortable silence. But this, this feels far from comfortable to her. There is none of his chit chatter, no funny anecdotes from times when he got himself in trouble (of which there are many), no inappropriate innuendos that usually earn him an eye roll. Except she know yearns for one of his remarks, any sign that he is the funny, carefree man that she loves.

They spend at least an hour at the factory interviewing the other team members, trying to see if one of them had a strong motive for murder. But nothing suspicious comes up. One of the team members even gives them a tour of the factory. Aside from more sophisticated robotic technology, there are also a bunch of electronic toys being produced, and Kate can't help but notice that _her_ Castle would have been over the moon and annoyed the worker with questions until they were kicked out – but not before Castle would have snatched one of the toys for himself.

But the Castle walking in front of her, currently a stranger to her, asks questions like "How long does the development process take," "how many workers are typically occupied with a project at a time," instead of "can I have one." And because she realizes that he is different today, but refuses to believe that her nine year old on a sugar rush won't return sooner or later, she snatches one of the toys and puts it in her coat pocket when no one is looking.

She presents him with it when they are on their way back to the precinct. She smirks in triumph and waits for him to squeal in excitement and then tease her about a cop stealing a toy.

He just raises his eyebrow. "What do you need that for?"

The question is like a slap across the face. She may have thought that he was acting odd earlier, but she had blamed their fight and his sulking. But now, it was obvious that something was seriously wrong.

"Rick, seriously, what's wrong?!" she almost shouts, fingers gripping the steering wheel tight.

"Nothing!" he responds. "Why do you keep asking that?"

She manages to find a spot for her car and pulls to the side so that she can face him properly.

"Because you've been acting like a completely different person all day! You haven't said a single thing today that remotely sounded like you," she exclaims.

"You're not making any sense," he comments.

Beckett draws a deep breath. "Oh, yes, I am. But you know who is actually not making any sense? You. Yesterday, you were so convinced of your theory that you were refusing to accept any other possibilities. Today, when even the slightest bit of evidence came in that could have in some way affirmed it… you hardly acknowledge it. You're quiet, make reasonable conclusions…," she trails off.

"And that's a bad thing?" he questions her, slightly annoyed.

"Not generally," she responds. "But it's not you. The Castle I know and love is a man-child, excitable, inventive, creative, and funny… not some serious, calm and collected, calculating robot."

The annoyance doesn't leave his face. "I guess I should leave you alone then. Don't want to spoil the fun," he says, pointing at the toy she'd placed on the dashboard.

Castle opens his door and gets out, leaving her just like he did the day before. Disappointed and angry, she drives off. Ryan and Esposito greet her with new information on the mechanics found in the stormtrooper. It may have very well held the gun, could be remotely controlled – from the phone of the co-worker who had alibied out earlier.

At the end of the day, she should be happy that she could bring another killer to justice, she tells herself. But the main thought that is bothering her is that she knows that she would have immediately called Castle to tell him his robot theory had proven to be at least partly true under different circumstances. But she can't stand to hear the lack of childish joy, and so her phone stays in her pocket after they got the confession, after the boys tell her goodnight, after she sinks down on her couch that night. And her phone stays silent too.

Until it rings.

* * *

She shifts, disorientated. She is not on her couch. The sudden change of setting startles her, and her eyes fly open. It takes her eyes a while to adjust to the darkness, but then she quickly recognizes the familiar outlines of her bedroom. It is then that she hears that her phone is still ringing.

She quickly sits up and grabs the phone from her nightstand, noticing that it is just past midnight and that it is Rick's picture appearing on the screen. A rushes of both excitement and uncertainty flare through her and she picks up.

"Rick." Her voice is a little raspy

"Hey, Kate. Did I wake you up?" he asks.

"Yes, actually, but don't worry. I'm glad you called."

There is a short silence. "You sound upset. Are you okay?"

His concern warms her, and she can't stop herself before recounting the whole dream she just had. "It was awful. You weren't _my_ Castle anymore."

For the duration of her narration, he had remained quiet, nothing but the sound of his breath indicating that he was still on the line. Now, she hears him chuckle.

"Castle, this isn't funny. Our fight bothered me so much it haunted me in my dreams," she protests, but she is unable to hold back a small laugh herself. Now that she knows that it was all a dream, she can start to see the humor in it.

"No, I know… That's what I called about actually. I couldn't really sleep, I was thinking too much," he murmurs. "And I kept thinking about our argument, and I just… I'm sorry. I know I can get a bit carried away at times, and you keep me grounded. That's one reason why I love you."

"I love you too," she whispers. "And I'm sorry too. Your imagination helped us out plenty of times. And even if they don't help us catch the killer, they definitely help keep the team's mood up."

"That's good to hear," he laughs. He hesitates for a moment. "There's one more thing I wanted to discuss though."

Her heart thinks, already dreading another confrontation that she doesn't have the energy or will for. She just wants to cuddle up with Castle and listen to him tell her stupid jokes and hear him laugh and forget that there was ever a version of him that wouldn't have done those things.

"What is it?" she pushes herself to ask.

"Well, as I mentioned, I couldn't sleep and was thinking… and a majority concerned our fight, but I also thought about the case, and… what if the manager didn't program the stormtrooper to kill the guy, but the stormtrooper's technology is actually far more advanced than we thought – and he has developed the ability to think and all and actually made the decision to kill his owner himself? Evil robot apocalypse!"

She doesn't say anything for a while, her mind still processing his words. Then, finally… "You're an idiot."

"I'm your idiot."


	3. Chapter 3

**Taken from the castlefanficprompts tumblr page** : Pre. Beckett has a very romantic dream with Castle, so when she wakes up in the middle of the night, still very asleep, she calls Castle asking "where the hell are you? I woke up and you're not here."

 **A/N** : Thank you so much for the views, reviews, favorites, and follows. Every single one means a lot to me. I really dislike my writing sometimes, and it really warms my heart when I see that someone enjoys what I'm doing.

 **Set post season 2**

* * *

"I'm glad you could make it today," he says, practically beaming at her.

"Yeah, me too," she agrees.

They both raise their glasses of champagne that Castle organized earlier and clink them together. She didn't get or take a lot of days off, but it was their one-year anniversary and he had promised to make it worth her while. So far, it exceeded all of her expectations.

Granted, she is dating Richard Castle, so she definitely knew that he was likely to plan something special and extravagant. But, knowing that she is dating no other than Richard Castle, she had also been afraid that he would exaggerate.

None of her imagined worst-case scenarios came true though, and she realizes now that she hadn't given him enough credit. He knows her. He knows she doesn't like standing in the limelight and being the center of everyone's attention. She still sort of cringes when she thinks back to the seemingly endless amount of photographers at the event he once took her to for a case, and – even worse – the book launch party, where she, the inspiration, automatically had all eyes on her once she had been spotted.

So Kate had warned him not to do anything stupid, to which he responded "Come on, it's me you're talking to," with a twinkle in his eye, which hadn't exactly reassured her.

When he led her out of the car tonight, blindfolded ("because it's supposed to be a surprise, Kate"), she heard water and was really confused for a moment. If she were part of a crime show, this would surely be where her murderer would decide to dump her body.

As they walked on, Castle's right hand on her back and his left hand holding hers, he guided her onwards, and she could feel the ground change from wood to metal. "Welcome on board," she heard. They were on a boat then.

The steps they climbed next were somewhat steep, and had he not been right behind her, she would have been really afraid to lose her balance without her eyesight to help her out. She halted when she reached the top, heard him rush up behind her and stop once he reached the top. She felt his hands in her hair as he slowly untied the scarf that covered her eyes.

When she was able to see what was in front of her, her breath caught. The entire deck was surrounded by fairy lights, illuminating everything in soft but sparkling lighting. There was a small table placed on the left side and a candle in the middle. The rest of the space was occupied by simple and tasteful flower arrangements – but nothing looked too overboard and like he was trying too hard.

Shortly after they sat down, the cruise along the Hudson River began. Since it was summer, it was still relatively light outside, but the sky was beginning to darken, and the lights from both the boat and the city started to take effect.

* * *

Now they are both sitting opposite each other, enjoying the feeling of champagne prickling on their tongues and the taste of the delicious food that is being served to them.

"This is perfect," she whispers as she looks around her, taking everything in.

And it is. It's a grand gesture, booking a private boat tour just for the two of them, organizing staff that fulfills all of their wishes that night; it's a grand gesture so like Castle. But it's also private, calm, and relaxed, which is all that she could have ever asked for. This date was a perfect combination reflecting both his and her tastes and just so perfectly _them_.

She doesn't know how long they cruise through the water, maybe two hours, maybe three or even four. Their conversation just flows, as does the champagne, and by the time they return to the docks, Kate is slightly more than tipsy. But as one look at her partner tells her, Rick isn't entirely sober either.

They call a cab back to her apartment. Alexis and Martha are both at home, and as much as he loves them both, Castle doesn't want this night to be a family event.

She enters through the door first, stunned when she realizes that he set up her apartment too. There are electric candles spread throughout her apartment (he surely wasn't going to risk burning the place down in their absence), making the regular lighting unnecessary and keeping the mood he set on the boat alive.

Kate has the best intentions to actually cuddle up on the couch with him, maybe watch a movie, or just talk like they did earlier, but when she turns around, he is _right there_ and pulling her in for a deep kiss. So maybe not just cuddling.

It doesn't take long for their clothes to be spread across her floor, leaving a trail all the way to her bedroom.

* * *

When she wakes, the sheets are tangled around her legs. Only _her_ legs. She extends an arm to the side, waiting for her fingers to brush against his stomach or back or chest or _anything_. But the space between her is empty.

She listens, her ears waiting to pick up the sound of him moving around her apartment, but everything stays silent. He's gone.

She feels a bit of anger rising in her, but maybe he just quickly went out to catch a breath of fresh air… the air is rather stuffy in her bedroom, the open window not helping very much on this summer night.

Kate grabs for the phone on her nightstand, missing a few times while still a bit drowsy. She squints when the bright light illuminates her face. Part of her registers that it is just past 1 a.m. as she unlocks her phone and dials his number.

It rings for a bit, and she is just about to hang up with a frustrated growl when she hears his voice.

"Beckett?" His voice sounds uncertain, as if he is thrown off by her call.

She doesn't even notice his use of her last name, something he hardly does in private anymore, not since they started dating.

"Where the hell are you?" she asks, unable to keep the accusatory tone out of her voice. "I woke up and you're not here."

Silence.

"Hello?"

More silence, and nothing more but the sounds of their breathing filling it. But Kate isn't about to interrupt it again. She wants him to explain himself, why he just left her in her apartment, alone, on their anniversary, without a reason.

"Are you sure you called the right number?" he finally replies.

"Are you kidding me, Castle?!"

"Um… no… Would you care to elaborate on why you're so upset with me?"

"You _left_ ," she spits out.

There is another moment of silence and she is becoming more annoyed the more seconds pass.

"I'm aware of that. So?" he says tentatively.

"So?! You take me on this amazing date, this absolutely fantastic celebration of our anniversary, and everything is perfect. The food's perfect, the location's perfect, _we're_ perfect." As she continues, she begins talking faster and faster. "And everything at my apartment is perfect too, and then we have sex and when I wake up you're just _gone_. We don't exactly have a one-night-stand or friends with benefits arrangement… so where the HELL are you?!"

More silence follows her outburst, and now she really thinks she could strangle him. For leaving her here, for ruining her previously fantastic and giddy mood, for tainting the memory of an otherwise perfect date.

"I'm in the Hamptons," he says.

All of a sudden, she is wide awake. She shoots up from her bed, panic filling her as she begins to pace through the room. Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_.

Now that all drowsiness and confusion from sleep have left her, reality washes over her and thoughts race through her brain. Today isn't there anniversary. They aren't even dating. They'd never gone on a date. He hasn't even been anywhere near the city, not tonight, and not for the past month.

Because the Castle she was on the phone with was the Castle who had left her standing alone in the bullpen, waltzed out of the precinct and her life with his ex-wife by his side.

She realizes that it is probably her turn to say something now. She considers every maneuver that could get her out of this embarrassing situation. But she doesn't think there is one. She hasn't been exactly subtle when she blurted out the key moments of her dream, and there was no way that she can suddenly deny that she had dreamed of going on a date with him and more. And she has actually affirmed that it was him she was thinking of, so she also can't just claim that she accidentally dialed the wrong number.

The silence is more than awkward now, but he hasn't hung up or said anything else. He is just waiting on her to explain, but she isn't sure she can.

"Oh… I… I'm sorry for the late night call, didn't mean to disturb," she stammers, trying to bring the call to an end so that she can hang up before he questions her further.

"You didn't. I stayed up late, writing," he assures her.

Writing. The reason he allegedly left the precinct. The reason they were brought together… and ultimately torn apart.

"So now that we've determined that you're not keeping me from sleep, do you mind, I don't know… explaining?" Castle doesn't sound angry, or amused, just... cruious. Her heart sinks at his question. She wasn't getting out of this the easy way.

"Not much to explain. I was just having a dream, and I guess I didn't really realize it was one when I woke up. Just a bit of confusion, sorry," she attempts to explain as casually as possible. But she is sure that he can detect the nervousness in her voice she is trying so hard to hide, always so good at reading her.

"Dreaming… about me? Us?" he asks unbelievingly.

"I'm not so sure," she tries. "I think it's because I've been reading Heat Wave before I went to sleep. Guess certain scenes between Rook and Heat sparked my imagination."

"Rereading my book, huh?" he teases.

She is fine with feeding his ego as long as it distracts him from the fact that the dream she just had does not have much to do with his characters at all.

"However, I don't recall the two ever celebrating their anniversary in that book. Or going on a real date. The only part that seems to overlap from the dream and the book is that everything is perfect at the apartment and that you and I," he coughs, "sorry, Rook and Heat have sex." Damn.

"I guess I filled in the blanks, read between the lines, you know?" she attempts to justify, but she knows it's a weak excuse.

He chuckles. "And when you read between the lines, you see a future for the two?"

"Not if Rook leaves Nikki and decides he prefers one of his ex-lovers over her," she snaps before she can stop herself.

She wants to slap herself. Nothing remotely close to what she had just said actually happened in the books. So now she's made sure they both know that they aren't really talking about the book anymore.

She can almost hear him hesitate. "If you don't mind me, the author, telling you spoilers and revealing how the story possibly continues for Rook?"

Kate clenches her jaw. " _Fine_ ," she murmurs.

"What if I told you that Rook's interest in his ex-lover was only temporary?" he begins. "What if both realized that neither of them could give the other what they wanted? If Rook realized that he was just trying to distract himself and how much he really cared for Nikki?"

Her heart rate quickens at the implication.

"What if I told you," he continues, "that Rook soon worked in solitude after leaving Nikki behind, and that he really, _really_ hopes that he can return to her soon if she lets him?"

"Worked in solitude?" she asks. "Gina left?"

No more beating around the bush then. She isn't sure what made her ask the question so directly, but she just wants some answers, and talking to him after a month of radio silence seems to have messed with the image of restraint and composure she usually keeps up around him.

"Yeah. Things weren't ideal," he admits. "We get along better now, but all we really talk about is work, and I guess both of us realized that we couldn't make a relationship work again. So we ended it before it turned ugly."

When she doesn't reply, he says "Sorry to bore you, Beckett. You probably don't really care about Gina's and my relationship."

"No, no, I asked."

Another awkward silence falls between them, and Kate really wishes that those would just stop.

"So how's Demming?"

Or maybe she wishes that they'd continue if this is how the silences are broken.

She sinks down on her bed, the adrenaline from before slowly losing its effect. "We broke up."

"You… you guys broke up?" he inquires hesitantly.

"Yeah, Castle," her voice sharper than she intended.

"Bad breakup, judging by your tone."

"Oh, I don't know, the breakup itself wasn't so bad," she says sarcastically. "I think the bad part about it was that it happened because I was hoping that it would mean that I could figure out my feelings for someone else once I was out of the relationship."

"Someone else?" he questions, confused.

She has already revealed too much from the moment he picked up his phone, as she continued trying to worm her way out of the situation but instead managed to dig herself an even deeper hole. But all the frustration that has built up over the past month of his absence is now coming to the surface. And so she continues talking before she can think better of it.

"Yes, someone else. Because I was _this_ close to agreeing to come to the Hamptons with you. And then you parade your girlfriend, your freaking _ex-wife_ around the precinct, huddled together and oh-so in love. And I was left standing there like an idiot, because I was stupid enough to assume that your invitation was sincere and that the famous Richard Castle could walk around for a day without a woman attached to his arm."

"Last I checked, you had a _boyfriend_." Castle's turn to sound angry. "And you were going to spend the weekend with _him_. So heaven forbid I actually tried leaving you alone."

She struggles trying to figure out what to say next. They rarely had such honest and straightforward conversations, and, frankly, she wasn't sure how to handle everything both of them admitted to during this call.

"You really did," she whispers.

"What?"

"You did. Leave me alone," she explains.

"I'm sorry?" he offers, the anger in his voice disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

She actually laughs at that. "Nothing to be sorry for, I guess. I felt awful, but I did have a boyfriend, and I was supposed to spend the weekend with him, and I did tell you no… so I guess I can't really blame you."

"So… um…," he stutters, "this is about a month late, and I already asked the question, but I feel like your answer might be different this time…"

She bites her lip, her heart quickens its pace, and she already knows what his question will be, but after a month of being angry with him and the relief of finally getting to talk to him, she feels giddy.

"Kate, do you want to take one of the next weekends off and join me here? The offer still comes with a pool, a private part of the beach, and-"

"Yes," she interrupts.

"Yes?" he repeats.

"Yes," she affirms. "I'll take some time off. Not sure which weekend yet, but I'll check and let you know."

"Okay. And then, when you get here, maybe we can reenact parts of your dream?" She can practically see the smirk on his face.

"Castle."

"I'm just saying. I guess I just want to experience some of it, you made it sounds like a pretty amazing dream."

"It was."

* * *

When Kate lays back down to sleep after he finally hung up, she smiles. She can't be one hundred percent sure yet where they are headed. All she knows is that the butterflies that had turned into what felt like a punch in the gut at the sight of Castle with his ex-wife are suddenly there again, flapping through her stomach, the excitement making it almost impossible to sleep.

When she does, it's with a smile on her face.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:** based on the following I received in my tumblr inbox a while ago "Prompt: Beckett shows up to work with a cold/sinus infection/bronchitis, etc. during 4x10. Once they're cuffed together, Kate feels bad since she'll probably get Castle sick, while he just wishes he could make her feel better."_

* * *

Her head pounds when she drifts back into consciousness, and she wishes she could indulge in some more rest before she has to get up and… huh. Something doesn't feel quite right, but she has difficulty focusing on anything, can't pinpoint exactly what feels out of place.

Opening her eyes might help to assess the situation, but she tries and shuts them again almost immediately. Light was almost absent, but it was too bright for her nonetheless. Even the few sunbeams hitting her face from above make her squint and cause the pound in her head to increase. This feels like the worst hangover ever.

Except she can't remember drinking. Or planning to go out. As a matter of fact, she cannot recollect anything from yesterday, or today, and she isn't even sure where the hell she is. Did she imagine it, or did she hear someone breathing next to her? It's hard to tell when her ears aren't working like they normally would. Instead, everything sounds dull, as though her head is submerged underwater.

Beckett tries her hardest to pick up other details that might give her a clue as to where she is without having to open her eyes just yet. Yup, there's definitely breathing. Her right hand is moving rhythmically up and down, in tune with whoever's chest she has it placed on. And now that she thinks about it, her left arm is really uncomfortable, held down by some kind of weight.

Oh my god.

She's in bed with someone. She must have gone out, had too much to drink, and ended up at someone's place. She's horrified. That hasn't happened to her in _years_ and this is definitely not like her, not anymore, hasn't been her for several years. This isn't how things were supposed to go at all.

Her brain seems to work slower than usual, and it irritates her. Kate is still trying to comprehend how she could have possibly agreed to go home with someone when she suddenly notices that she's still wearing clothes. All of her clothes. And whoever she is lying next to appears to be dressed as well.

But who the hell is it and how did she get here?

Fully aware that she won't get any more answers without looking, she forces her eyes open, ignoring the ache shooting through her head in response. Her gaze falls on the person next to her, and she automatically smiles. Oh. This isn't so bad, she thinks as she looks at the peaceful expression Castle wears in his sleep. This is a sight she could get used to.

It isn't a sight she enjoys for long, however, as her eyes begin to water and the picture in front of her becomes blurry. Water flows freely from her eyes, her nose itches, and she can't hold back the sneeze that follows.

The sound is what wakes him, and he blinks in confusion. Beckett hardly notices; she's too occupied trying to search her pockets for a tissue. But searching with one hand is inefficient, and she attempts to sit up and use her left hand as well.

"Ouch," he whines the second she tries to yank her arm free, and she feels something painfully cut into her wrist.

It draws her attention, and she tries to gather her thoughts, but it appears her analytical skills and cop senses are on vacation right now. The unpleasant pull on her wrists, the sniffling the can't seem to stop, as well as the fact that both of them still have their full set of clothes indicate that what she experiences isn't a hangover, and she didn't have a one-night stand. She feels a sense of relief, but it doesn't last long, because none of it makes any sense.

It takes her longer than it should, but then she sees why her move hurt them both, and she narrows her eyes at him.

"Castle, did you do this?" she hisses. Her voice sounds weird. Too nasally, slightly raspy, a little deeper than usual too.

"Do what?" he shoots back defensively.

She shakes her left hand as much as she can, letting him hear the quiet jingle of metal and feel the slight upwards tug on his own hand each time she moves hers. Castle turns slightly, his eyes leaving her face and instead staring at their joined hands. Joined by her police cuffs.

He turns his head back to her, unable to suppress a smirk. "We're in handcuffs. Kinky."

Kate wants to snap at him, because this is definitely not funny and she still has no idea how they got here, but before she can utter a single word, she sneezes again. Right in his direction.

"Shit, I'm sorry," she sniffles and shoots him an apologetic look.

Castle is still on his back while she propped herself up as much as she could while her arm was still trapped under his head. He moves, to the best of his abilities, and sits up next to her.

"Caught the cold, huh?" he remarks, and she rolls her eyes at him.

"Obviously. Now don't come any closer, or you'll catch it too," she warns, but her voice cracks at the end of the sentence, and he chuckles. She merely glares at him.

"If you haven't noticed," he starts and gently moves his left arm up and down, making hers follow his against her will, "I have no choice but to be close. And frankly, I definitely don't mind being close to you."

She ignores his last statement, ignores the warmth that spreads through her. Instead, she lets her eyes roam around the room they're in, determined to figure out the mystery of their location. Her mind is still blank; she cannot seem to recall anything from the last few hours, doesn't even remember what case might have gotten them into this situation.

"Okay, Sherlock," she rasps. "Do you know where we are? Or why we are here?"

He furrows his brow, taking in their surroundings. She pats herself down.

"My watch is missing."

"Mine too. And my wallet."

"So is my badge and my gun," she adds.

"And my phone. I just renewed my contract," he remarks.

"Would you stop joking?" she sighs, but the way she says it seems to irritate her throat and starts a coughing fit. When she catches her breath again, she can feel his gaze lingering on her in concern.

"You okay?"

She shrugs it off. "I'd be a lot better if I could get so Aspirin or Advil. So let's try and get out of here so I can get some. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I…," he starts and then goes silent. Castle wrinkles his forehead and she can practically see his brain working. "It's kind of a blur," he admits.

Good. So at least she didn't have her cold to blame for her memory malfunction. "Yeah. Me too. I think we were drugged."

"Yeah, I think so too. And not the good kind."

"Okay, lift my top," she orders and regrets it almost immediately.

"I think you might still be under the influence, but okay. You sure you didn't overdose on Advil already?"

If she hadn't turned her back to him already, he would have seen her eye roll. Castle obliges, and he carefully pulls up her sweater to examine her back. She can feel his cool fingers grazing along her lower back, too gentle, too loving, lingering, and yeah, he needs to stop.

"Beckett, you're burning up," he says, his fingers still in touch with her too-hot skin. Now that he mentions it, the slight draft in the room feels nice and cool in contrast to her heated skin.

Castle still has her shirt pulled up. "Okay, you can put my shirt down," she commands, and he apologizes and lets go of the fabric immediately. She almost tells him to pull it back up again, already missing the cool air – and his touch – once the sweater covers her.

"There's a needle mark," he informs her.

"We were drugged," she manages to get out, before she starts coughing again. She's really glad she still has her back to him.

"Kate, are you okay?" he questions, and his genuine concern warms her in an entirely different (and more pleasant) way.

Rick places a hand on her shoulder and tries to get her to face him, but she resists. "Don't wanna cough on you," she murmurs her explanation.

"Kate." He waits until she turns her head slightly and looks at him. "We're in the same room. Handcuffed together. Almost as close as we could be."

"So?" she shoots back.

"So I'm probably inhaling your germs no matter which way you're coughing."

He's right, of course, but that doesn't mean that she can't try. She drops the topic, knowing the discussion between them could go on forever, and they really don't need that right now. "What is the last thing you remember?" she prompts.

"You called me… A body dropped."

* * *

His mind wanders back to this morning's events. He knew something was off the moment he picked up the phone and heard her voice through the speaker. It was her, but it didn't quite sound like her. Her tone lacked the usual bite and she sounded more than exhausted.

"Castle," was her morning greeting. "Dead body."

"Are you referring to yourself?" he joked, and instead of a comeback, he received nothing but a long exhale followed by a small cough.

"I don't even know where I got it from… Listen, you don't have to come. It's probably best if you don't. Bad enough that my team has to be around me and maybe get sick too. I don't need you to join the club while I'm contaminating the crime scene."

Castle's heart sunk when he heard how defeated she sounded. The Kate Beckett he knows powers through everything she can. But right then, she sounded absolutely miserable. "Well, I'm part of that team, so I'll take my chances." And make sure she didn't overwork herself when all her body probably needed was rest, he added silently in his head.

"Castle, that's really not the best id…"

"Just give me the address," he insisted, and she didn't seem to be capable of arguing with him.

When he showed up at the hotel, he handed her a warm paper cup. Beckett tried to inhale the steam, but her stuffed nose really wouldn't let her smell anything.

"It's actually tea," he explained. "I know you usually only take coffee, but this is made with honey, and it should be soothing for your throat. I at least read that it helps…," he trailed off. "I can get you coffee if you absolutely hate it," he rushed to add, but she stopped him with a small smile.

"Thank you," she murmured and then started briefing him on the murder.

He listened intently, and couldn't help but notice the obvious effects the cold had on her. It wasn't just her voice that suffered. She kept touching her head and massaging her temples as though it hurt. She frequently lost her train of thought, and her colleagues had to fill in the blanks. Her reaction time was slower, and Lanie repeated some of her findings twice until they registered with her.

* * *

Castle tells her all of this, and then pauses. "Why did you even come into work?" he questions.

"I always do," she answers and shrugs.

When she got up in the morning, she didn't think it would be a problem; she had worked with a cold before. She could make it through the day. By the time they got back to the precinct, she was out of tissues and desperately hoping for a lunch break during which she could run to the closest pharmacy and drug herself to a point where she wouldn't even notice the rhythmic pounding of her head.

Kate forces herself to focus as much as she can. There was no obvious way out of the room they found themselves trapped in, no clue as to where they even where. Reconstructing the day might give them some hints.

* * *

But even as some pieces start falling back into place, the thing she remembers most prominently is how Castle wouldn't leave her side all day. He always followed her, always watched her – by now it didn't even faze her – and he had always been concerned for her.

However, that particular day, it was almost too much, almost overbearing. Her continued reassurances that she was fine did not make him go away, and she really wished that he would.

A selfish part wanted him to stay, move even closer if possible; loved how caring he was, how attentive… but the more rational part of her warned her that, if Castle's in close proximity of her, he'll get sick, and he has a daughter and a mother he could infect, and he has a lot of work to get done this month, he really doesn't need to be ill, because it would hinder his writing or keep him from meetings, and…

Her train of thought was interrupted by Castle setting down some meds and tissues on her desk and she almost kissed him right there, so grateful for the prospect of being a slightly more functioning detective for the remainder of the day. Although she apparently failed at that part with or without meds.

* * *

Beckett feels her wrist being pulled at. Castle tried to get up, walk around and examine the room, but temporarily forgot about the metal binding them together. He shoots her an apologetic look and murmurs a sorry. She waves him off and joins him in his effort to stand up.

Once they're finally upright, she sways slightly, and it doesn't escape his attention. He puts his right arm around her waist to steady her, and if she didn't feel like the room was spinning, she would have pushed him away, still concerned about being too close to him. Not that he had stayed very far away from her earlier in the day, but now they are literally bound together, and the likeliness of him coming down with something increases too much for her liking.

She waits until she feels safe to stand on her own, then moves away as far as the cuffs will allow.

"You're acting like I'm poisonous," he grunts, and she can't help but notice that he seems offended.

"You're not, _I_ am," she clarifies. "And I don't even have any of the medication you gave me earlier, and I can't focus, and I _need_ to focus so that we can get out of here," Kate growls in frustration.

Something she said must have triggered his memory, because his head whips up and he stares into the distance, the way he always does when he has a new idea or thought crossing his mind.

"The meds," he whispers dumbly.

"I'll survive."

"But Kate," he starts and turns around to stare at her, something in his look signaling her that he expects her to know what he is getting at. "We were drugged with god knows what, and you took pills earlier – quite a lot of them, actually – so what if they don't react well together? Maybe that's why you feel so awful."

"I'm almost certain that that isn't the case," she tries to calm him down. She'd felt terrible all day, the only thing this new drug appeared to have done was to make her slightly drowsier - if that was even possible. "Come on, let's concentrate on getting out of here."

"Yeah," he agrees. "And once we do, I'm taking you to a doctor."

She isn't in the mood to protest, so she doesn't respond and begins analyzing the room, Castle trailing close behind. They start exchanging all details they remember about the case, and slowly but surely, they get an idea of why they are here. They start building theories and discussing possible escape plans, bouncing off of each other as usual. Sometimes, she takes too long to respond and he fills in information for her.

Castle, even in the dim lighting, can see the dark circles under her eyes, how pale she is in spite of the slight hint of bronzer she put on that day. He notices some trickles of sweat around her hairline, how she keeps touching her temples, how she sniffles because there are still no tissues, how she deliberately turns her head and coughs in the opposite direction. How she looks and sounds absolutely miserable, and there is nothing he can do about it.

Until they're out of here, at least.

Getting her out of here is his main priority, because she looks utterly wrecked, and the cool air down here surely isn't improving her condition. They scan every inch of the room, he manages to unlock the freezer (and regrets it almost instantly), and soon after, they are done and no step further in discovering an escape route.

He really hopes Ryan and Esposito will find them soon. They are sitting on the cold floor, and she tried to stay away, but eventually slumped against his shoulder, too weak to even sit up straight.

"I'm sorry," she suddenly mumbles, and he is too confused to even respond. "For getting you into this, this wasn't how it was supposed to go."

Kate pressed up against his shoulder, shivering, murmuring her apologies invokes a memory all too scary and painful to remember. Cuddled up in a freezer, their deaths almost certain. This shouldn't feel so familiar. They're not even in a freezer, just in a damp, cold basement. They're cuffed, and Ryan and Esposito will know to look for them if they haven't returned by now. Nothing about this is the same other than the fact that they are trapped.

But she looks like she is _suffering_ and god, he should have insisted she go home this morning and none of this would have happened.

Castle realizes he hasn't responded, but Kate hasn't noticed, is almost asleep. A pounding from behind the wall rouses her, momentarily restores her attentiveness. When they get up to investigate, she actually leans on him for support, simply accepting that she has no other choice and finding that she doesn't mind at all being so close to him, feeling a sense of security while leaning against him and feeling his grip on her hip.

Breaking through the wall drains her of almost all the strength she had left, and even the sight of a tiger and the adrenaline rush that follows doesn't give her enough energy. It's Castle, all Castle who suddenly seems to have superhuman strength, flips the freezer over and hoists both of them up, and judging by the look on his face, he is as surprised as she is.

For most of their struggle, Beckett can't even bring herself to try and find a solution, their way out of here. Some voice in the back of her head screams at her, yells at her to do _something_ , but her body simply will not cooperate. She just stays pressed up against Castle's chest.

And then everything goes black.

* * *

When she wakes up the next time, she still doesn't recognize the mattress, but she can tell it's different. A sense of dread fills her once again, and her eyes fly open. Lots of white, she notices just as she realizes that the light no longer causes her to flinch, the thrumming of her head earlier turned into a dull thud, barely there. She has no idea how much time has passed, but judging by the sun shining through her window she's guessing that it's the next day, maybe sometime in the afternoon. She must have slept for 's beeping sounds somewhere close to her, and now she also recognizes the kind of bed she's in. Hospital, she concludes. She's in a hospital.

Kate hears him clear his throat next to her, and she turns to look at Castle.

"You scared me to death," he admits.

"Didn't mean to," she says, and her voice cracks a little. "What happened?"

He sighs and leans back. "You fainted. Picked a great time for it too. You missed me heroically defending you against the claws of the evil beast," he tries to joke, but he fails to hide the concerned look in his eyes.

"I'm sure you were great," she smiles.

"You have no idea." He looks at her and clenches his jaw, and she knows he won't continue to joke about the tiger. "You really did scare me though," he whispers, carefully brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen into her face without thinking about it, and she lets him, surprising them both. "You suddenly went limb, and I almost couldn't pull both of us up. Ryan and Espo made it just in time. They solved the case and everything, but I just wanted to get you to a hospital as fast as possible."

"So what's the verdict?" she asks. Kate already feels less awful than earlier, so it can't be too bad.

"It's nothing too serious," he affirms. "You fainted because you hadn't eaten all day and maybe yesterday."

"I felt like I was gonna throw up!" she defends herself when she catches his disapproving look.

"Other than that," he continues, "you had high fever, and a lot of other symptoms from a really bad cold."

"So I'll live," she tries to lighten the mood, but when their eyes meet, he is still so _serious_ and the slight smile he gives her doesn't reach his eyes.

"Next time you feel this crap, please take a day off," he pleads. "This could have ended really badly, and I'm not sure if I could fight off a tiger by myself again if it came down to it."

This time, it's Kate who doesn't laugh at his comment. Instead, she feels a pang of guilt. She was unconscious. She left him to defend them both, and it's extremely lucky they're both alive and well. If he hadn't been able to… but she stops the thought before she can finish it. They're both here. They're okay.

She's still on drugs, she reasons, when she extends her hand, reaching for his, and looks down at her wrist. "No cuffs," she remarks.

"We can put them back on again, if you'd like," he smirks as he takes her hand and slowly rubs in circles with his thumb. She can't bring herself to stop him.

Their silence is interrupted by his sneeze, and she raises her eyebrows. "It's nothing," he assures her, and then sneezes again. "Okay, so maayybeee I did catch a cold from you, but it's still way too early to tell…," he says and shoots her a sheepish grin.

"I told you I'd get you sick," she murmurs and bites her lip.

"I'll be okay," he laughs. "Being so close to you, it was worth it," he says and she hopes he can't see her cheeks flush. "Besides, Richard Castle can handle the common cold," he declares.

* * *

Two days later, and he looks like a ghost when she visits him at his loft.

She called earlier, telling him about another case they could work now that she had recovered. He agreed to show up, but she could already hear his raspy voice through the phone. She urged him to stay home, only succeeding when she promised to pay him a visit once she was off.

Kate bought soup on the way, which he gratefully slurps now, and they sit on his couch watching funny movies all evening until he almost falls asleep, and he hates that a simple illness can do that to him, drain him so much he can't even stay awake while she's sitting right next to her.

He whimpers a little, and Kate laughs at him. "You still don't regret getting so close? You may have been able to prevent this," she teases.

"Still so worth it," he chokes out before his own cough interrupts him.

True, being sick sucked, and he hates that he is forced to sit around all day, incapable of doing anything even remotely productive. But Kate Beckett in his embrace, so close, and now coming to his loft to keep him company?

He wouldn't exchange it for the world.


	5. Chapter 5

**based on this prompt from castlefanficprompts:** _"you give me a different fake name every time you come into starbucks and I just want to know your real name bc ur cute but here I am scrawling "batman" onto your stupid cappuccino"_

* * *

She is aware of who enters before she even turns around. She doesn't need to see the person to know who it is. For almost two weeks now, he'd been coming into the coffee shop at the exact same time – 4:30 p.m. – and she figures it's probably on his way back from work.

Starting to work at Starbucks was a way to make some money while she was in law school. Technically, she is already too busy; allnighters have become an all too frequent occurrence in her routine. But the last thing she wants to bother her dad about is money. She knows he could easily give her some, but she is done being dependent on anyone.

Being able to get her favorite Starbucks order for free is a nice bonus too.

So she works her shifts without complaining, suppresses dozens of yawns, and takes orders from old confused ladies, obnoxious businessmen, and preppy teens. And him.

Of course there are regulars. She's very familiar with some of them, knows their order before they can open their mouths. But she never worked the afternoon shifts before this month.

And that's when he walked in.

* * *

It was surprisingly empty; the store void of people except for a lone woman toward the back typing away on her phone. With no other distractions around, all her attention was immediately on him.

He approached the counter in a few long strides, and she couldn't help but silently admire his physique and the confidence he radiated. Cute guys did occasionally stumble across her path, but they weren't quite like him. Something about him was different, drew her in for reasons even she couldn't figure out.

"Good morning, welcome to Starbucks. What can I get started for you?" she heard herself say automatically.

The man before her tilted his head slightly, and she immediately notices the piercing shade of blue of his eyes. And the (sexy) smirk that graced his lips. But he didn't respond, and so she lifted her eyebrows in question.

"Morning?" he questioned, and mockingly looked down at his watch. "I mean, I like to get my day started late, but considering it's past four, that seems a bit off."

She gave him a nervous laugh that was so unlike herself and mentally scolded herself for acting like some teenage girl. So she added an eyeroll for good measure. Perfect.

"Force of habit," she explained. "First time working the afternoon shift."

"Obviously," he chuckled. "I've definitely never seen you before, and I would have remembered. Kate," he added after his eyes flicked down to her nametag.

The smile that followed was infectious. Was he flirting with he? She sure hoped so.

"Anyway, what can I get for you?" she started again.

"Just a cappuccino, please. Grande."

She entered everything into the register and took the cash he offered her. Their hands brushed, and Kate could actually feel the slight tint of redness to her cheek. With the way he studied her, eyes not leaving her face for even a moment, she was sure he wouldn't miss it. Great.

"Oh, and your name please," she said with his cup and sharpie in hand.

"Han Solo," he said with such certainty that she almost believed it was his real name for a second. Until she looked up and saw the lines around his eyes. She raised her eyebrows again, but scribbled the name on it anyway. Some costumers were like that.

"Star Wars fan, huh?" she asked.

"I'm a fan of many things," he simply stated.

They didn't exchange many words after this, but she caught him continuing to stare at her multiple times while she completed his order. And she couldn't say it bothered her. When it was finished and she called out the name, she was almost sad to hand him his coffee, knowing that he would depart once she did.

With a cheery "thank you" and another smile, Han Solo turned around and left the coffee shop, and probably her life.

She couldn't ignore the slight twinge of sadness she felt at the thought.

Two days later, she took over the same shift again. It was a lot busier this time, and so she didn't even see him come in; didn't recognize him until he was next in line.

"Hey Kate," he said and gave her a smile.

"Han Solo," she smirked. "Grande cappuccino?"

"Surprised you remember," he murmured.

"Hard to forget a Star Wars legend."

"Actually," he interrupted as she went to write the name on his cup, "I'm Superman today."

Kate tilted her head as he grinned at her. His eyes sparkled, and she momentarily found herself mesmerized by the way they changed color in different lighting. She held his gaze, momentarily forgot where they were, and… pulled herself out of it.

She shrugged before relenting and scribbling the new name on the cup. She was quite curious to find out his real name, found herself intrigued by this man for whatever reason. But she wasn't about to beg him to give her his identity. Surely, she could find out herself somehow.

As he left, she looked him up and down, trying to find any detail that would have given away anything, though she wasn't sure what. A laniard, maybe. If only he would pay with credit card, her newfound quest to find out his name would be finished in seconds.

The third time she met him was almost two weeks later; scheduling issues and exams keeping her occupied and forced her to work few (and only morning) shifts. She had almost made peace with the fact that she wouldn't see the stranger again, though the image of him popped into her mind more often than she liked to admit.

But even though she reasoned with herself that the chances of him returning were somewhat slim, she couldn't help suppress that bit of hope as she began her shift. After all, he had indicated that he dropped by this particular Starbucks more often.

Time seemed to crawl, and her heart beats out of her chest when the clock struck 4:30. No sign of him. He wasn't in line of the costumers she was currently serving, and she couldn't spot him through the window looking out into the street. She had to remind herself to smile as she took other people's orders – people she didn't really care about.

 _But you care about him, some random guy who ordered a coffee twice?_

Kate herself didn't understand. Maybe it was the mystery of his name. Maybe his friendly smile that was so contagious she automatically returned it. All she knew was that she longed to find out more about this man.

Which would be impossible if he didn't show.

The door opened and her heart leapt. 4:32.

"Superman is late," she said teasingly as he made his way to the counter before she can stop herself.

"Late?" he chuckled. "Been keeping track of me?"

She mentally told herself off for being so obvious. "Serving superheroes is a memorable experience," she tried to justify.

"In that case, make the cappuccino for Wolverine this time."

"One day, you'll run out of names," she teased.

He smirked. "Ah, maybe. But I know a lot, so I have many drinks left to go before that day comes."

She couldn't really argue with that, and so she accepted the cash he handed her and returned his change. "Will you use your real one when you're through with them?" she called after him as he left. He merely laughed without turning around.

"Oh, it's him," she heard the voice of her co-worker as she appeared next to her.

"You know him?" Kate asked. Maybe she would find out who he was sooner than she thought.

"I've seen him, but I haven't got a clue who he is." _Oh._ "First time I met him, he said his name was Harry Potter. Gives a different one each time."

Kate felt every bit of hope she had to detect his name rapidly diminish. But at least her co-worker confirmed he was a regular. He was guaranteed to reappear.

"Kinda cute, huh?" her colleague said.

"Maddie!"

"I'm just saying. You seem quite fixated on him."

"Just want to know what kind of grown man gives fictional characters' names instead of his own, that's all," she defended herself.

Maddie just shrugged, clearly not believing her, and let Kate take her break without further comment.

* * *

Today, the fourth time he comes in while she's working, she expects it. She doesn't even look in the direction of the door, already senses his presence and turns around once he is at the register.

"Hey Kate," he greets with a smile.

"You know," she starts slowly. "I find it somewhat unfair that you get to call me by my name, and yet all I get is a choice of four fictional names."

"Four?" He gives her a puzzled look. "I only recall giving you three thus far."

"Those three and Harry Potter," she explains.

"I see you talked to your colleagues about me."

"Colleague. Singular. She saw you leave the other day. Is this all very entertaining for you?" She narrows her eyes at him, but he doesn't seem phased.

"Immensely," he shoots back, not trying to hide the amusement in his voice.

She doesn't need to hear his order, and he doesn't protest when she enters a grande cappuccino into the register without asking. He pays for it in cash as usual. No word is uttered between them before she takes the cup and looks at him expectedly.

"Batman," he grunts in a low voice.

She doesn't know what overcomes her, but she slams the cup down - the liquid magically not spilling - the pen falling out of her grasp and onto the floor. "What the hell is your deal?!" she exclaims, drawing a few looks from other people in the café.

He is taken aback for a moment, but regains his composure in seconds. "I'm gonna have to ask you to be more specific."

"This is the fourth time we meet –"

"Glad to see you're keeping count," he notes with a grin she wants to wipe off his face, but that she can't help but find incredibly adorable.

"… and you give me – and apparently, everybody else in this store – a different stupid name every time. Why can't you just give me your real name?!"

The grin hasn't disappeared. "You seem awfully eager to find out."

Kate is too worked up to care about the fact that he noticed. Maybe she'd fed his ego enough for him to finally give her his real name. At this stage, she is way too curious to be embarrassed. Four meetings, and he caused her to lose her cool.

"So," she challenges, "will you tell?"

His smile widens. "Let's make a game out of it." The smugness is audible, but he can't hide the hint of childish excitement in it.

"A game?"

He nods. "You get three tries to guess my name each time I come here."

Kate raises her eyebrows and eyes him skeptically. "Like Rumplestiltskin?"

The stranger sighs. "No, no. Rumpelstiltskin only gave the girl three tries in total. I'm giving you way more than that."

"Rumplestiltskin also wanted to take her baby," she counters. "What happens if I don't guess your name? Or if I do?"

"Keep trying if you don't guess it. I'll take you out to dinner if you do."

She holds his gaze, her expression suddenly serious as she leans in closer. "What makes you think I'd want to go out to dinner with you?"

The amusement suddenly vanishes from his face. "Oh… I thought… Anyway, you don't have-"

This time, it's her turn to grin. "Calm down, Batman. I'm joking." His smile returns immediately.

"Wanna give it a shot then?"

She shrugs. "John. David. Tim."

"Nope, nope, and nope. I look forward to hearing what you come up with next time."

And with that, he takes the cup she holds out to him and disappears out the door, a slight bounce to his step. This time, she knows he'll be back.

* * *

"Michael. James. Jacob."

"Wrong again," he laughs. "Guess you can make it out to Captain America."

"Glad to see your ego is still intact," she mumbles with an eyeroll, struggling to hide her frustration. This might take her more tries than she likes to think. But she is determined to succeed. Just maybe not today.

"Ethan. Andrew. Luke."

The satisfaction in his smile is enough; she doesn't need to hear that she's wrong again.

"You'll be happy to hear you're giving a cappuccino to Indiana Jones today."

Next time, she will be better prepared. Before she starts her afternoon shift, she does a bit of research. She assumes he is a bit older than her; a few years maybe, but not that old. So she googles 'most popular baby names 1970,' hoping his name is on the list somewhere. She's glad to see she already covered some of the names on top. But her search is far from being narrowed down.

"Robert. Christopher. William."

The cappuccino goes to Iron Man.

* * *

Law school already takes up most of her time, her work at Starbucks the rest of it, and so she hardly ever gets any time to venture out and enjoy a bit of free time to herself. This Saturday is an exception.

She resists the temptation to just stay in bed, sleep some more, watch TV shows all day and not move unless she needs food or the bathroom.

Instead, she gets ready after allowing herself at least a littlemore sleep than usual. She won't waste the one day she has some free time to enjoy as she pleases.

She strolls through the streets, enters a few stores when she spots something she likes. Two hours pass, the three plastic bags of clothes in her hand begin to annoy her, and the time she agreed to meet her friend for lunch fast approaching.

Just one more stop.

Her lack of leisure time prevents her from reading anything longer than a newspaper article, but a break is in sight, and so she thinks she might finally be free long enough to finish at least one book.

Kate enters the small bookstore and begins to explore the shelves. She browses through the romance section, nothing catching her eye. She read a bunch from the science fiction selection already, skips the section of historical novels, and finds herself in front of crime and mystery novels.

Technically, she already deals with enough crimes during her studies. And yet, she still enjoys the suspense as the mystery is solved step by step by a series of subtle clues.

She grabs a random book, skimming the back for a synopsis. _Too predictable_ , she thinks as she reads about a rich wife with a secret. _Her boyfriend or her husband; jealousy or money_. She puts the book back and grabs another one.

Derrick Storm - "The beginning of a thrilling series," according to the back. Maybe a bit dramatic for her taste, but as she reads the summary, she realizes she wants to read more. She flips open the book, just wanting to read the beginning, try out if she likes the style and if she still finds it interesting.

That's when the sleeve catches her eye. Surely enough, there's a picture of the Starbucks stranger she saw just three days ago.

It takes every ounce of control she has to keep herself from giggling like a maniac and jumping through the store.

Castle. Richard Castle.

Starbucks stranger is an author. And, judging by the bio, this isn't his debut novel. She grins, and walks over to check-out with the book in her hand. She won't be working the afternoon shift for four days, so she might as well use that time to learn something about the mystery man.

Her free time is limited, the amount of homework overwhelming, and sleep is crucial to her sanity. Yet, somehow, she finds herself not being able to put his book down at 2 a.m. He's keeping her from getting some much-needed rest, and she cannot bring herself to care.

The story is captivating, the plot twists exhilarating, and in the end, the riddle is solved and justice is served.

Kate would never admit it, but she counts down the days until her next shift.

She's giddy with excitement, impatiently awaits the moment the clock strikes four thirty. And then it does.

He doesn't show.

She expects him to waltz in a few minutes late; perhaps he encountered a friend on the street or forgot something wherever he came from and went back to get it.

But forty more minutes pass, and she fails to come up with more explanations.

Kate goes home disappointed and grumpy. She tries to get some work done, but she just stares at her laptop screen for a while before she gives up. And then opens the browser and types his name into Google.

Voices in her head tell her that she's being creepy, but she ignores them.

The search results pop up. The second entry catches her eye. His Twitter profile.

She knows she's basically stalking, but she's waited too many days to be let down like this.

 _Lots of meetings today. Book signing tomorrow! Come out and say hi._ The address of the place is right there, and she shouldn't, she really shouldn't, but… she's already taken it this far, and it just so happens that the venue is only a few blocks away. She is going to need a study break at some point, she can totally drop by for a few minutes.

The look on his face alone would make it worth it.

She's already gone against her principles, she might as well. He came to taunt her at work every time, she would return the favor.

* * *

Time crawls, classes don't seem to end, and when her professor finally finishes, she practically bursts out of the room.

She rushes home, drops all of her stuff and grabs her purse and his book. Kate basically runs out of her apartment and quickly makes one more stop before her final destination.

A familiar smell engulfs her as she enters the Starbucks. Her colleague hands her the drink she requested via text as she walked over, and she's finally heading to the signing.

Nervous excitement bubbles in her stomach that increases the closer she gets. She knows she will be one of the last people there; her schedule preventing her from being one of the first instead.

When she enters the book store, there are only a few left in line, but enough to keep him from noticing her.

It's not until she's at the table that he looks up and their eyes meet.

"Grande cappuccino for Richard," she says with a smile as she triumphantly places the beverage in front of him.

He's stunned, lost for words, and she assumes that's a new experience for him. His mouth opens and closes. Opens again.

"How did you…?" Richard Castle can't even finish the sentence.

Kate chuckles. "I read, you know," she says and holds out her copy of his book. "And then I found out there was a signing. I guess I just didn't want to miss the opportunity."

"You mean you didn't want to miss out on seeing me," he shoots back with a smirk.

She purses her lips for a moment. "Maybe," she concedes. "Point is, I found out your name."

"You'd make a great detective," he teases.

"So, Richard…"

"Rick, please. The only person who calls me Richard is my mother."

"Well, I believe you owe me dinner, Rick."

"Indeed I do." Rick shoots a look at his watch. "The signing is over anyway. No one else is here. Do you have anything planned right now?"

 _Yes. There's assignments and readings piled up, her apartment needs to be cleaned, and she really needs to go to bed early_. Kate shakes her head.

"Good. Now you do."

Rick Castle rises, grabs his drink and her hand, and escorts her to one of his favorite restaurants.

The next time she sees him at Starbucks, she scrawls a name down before he can give her one.

"Daredevil?" She shoots him a smile. "I like it."

She doesn't have to wait until her next afternoon shift to see him again.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviews, follows, or favorites any of my stories. Any support I get is always so appreciated 3  
_

 **Prompt from the castlefanficprompts page** : Fic about all the men that have failed Kate in her whole life. Then the one that didn't.

* * *

The first time it happened, Kate was in kindergarten.

Her and Jason had been inseparable for months. She wasn't too interested in playing with dolls like most other girls her age did, and he didn't like the rough games the other boys enjoyed playing – although neither really admitted it out loud, not wanting to officially be excluded from either group.

She found him sitting on the swings in the playground by himself in the first week and hopped onto the one next to his.

Since then, they always sat next to each other, hung out in the playground together – they even went to the movies on a Saturday once and were allowed popcorn.

Kate was certain she'd found her best friend for life. She trusted Jason, and Jason trusted her. They were there for each other come whatever.

Until this other boy transferred from this place she couldn't and didn't want to remember.

She wasn't sure she realized when or how it happened, but she started sitting on the swings by herself.

For reasons unknown to her, Jason thought he was too cool for swings all of a sudden. When she asked if he wanted to play with her, he just puffed his chest out and proudly announced that he would go play with the other boys, and not some _girl_. And suddenly, he didn't mind spending time with the boys and roughing things up. Anything to impress the new guy that had so easily replaced her.

Kate went home crying that day, and spent the rest of the year pretending that she loved playing with dolls, even begged her mom to get her a few so she could impress the other girls.

The tight hug Johanna gave her didn't stop her from hurting, but it did somehow make her feel that things were going to be okay eventually.

* * *

The second time, she's in third grade and her teacher gave Amy the main part in their school play.

Her rival, of all girls he could have chosen. Kate knew Amy didn't deserve it. She was mean, untrustworthy, and shot Kate a vicious grin when Mr. Bennett read out their names and the part they got.

Besides, _she_ was his favorite student. He had always told her how smart he thought she was, how clever, and how he encouraged her thirst for knowledge in any way possible.

Kate held back her tears in class and during rehearsals, not wanting Amy to see how upset she truly was. Mr. Bennett took her aside once after she snapped at him during rehearsals. He apologized for not giving her the part, but explained that so many had wanted it, and that she wasn't the only one disappointed.

She avoided eye contact and pouted. All of his apologies and explanations fell on deaf ears. Kate was stubborn, and with a small sigh, Mr. Bennett rose and returned to the other performers and told her to join once she felt ready.

She did, eventually. After all, she didn't want her parents to come see the show and be disappointed as soon as they realized she hadn't made the play at all.

The day of the performance came, and she was glad Amy got the part. She's on stage, her one, single line coming up, and she didn't think she could breathe. It was her turn to speak, and she managed to stammer it out, too quiet and rushed for anyone in the audience to actually hear, but she was glad.

Amy got all the applause, of course, accepted it with a triumphant smile, and although Kate knew he was right to cast her, she continued to hold a silent grudge against Mr. Bennett.

* * *

The third time, it's a boy named David. Kate was in 8th grade then, and it was almost time to go to high school.

He was a cool guy. He made her laugh, he brought her cookies from home sometimes, and he always checked up on her as soon as they had class together.

Holding hands in the hallway with him was exciting, and when he asked her to 8th grade prom, she was so incredibly happy.

The happiness didn't last for long. He broke up with her two weeks later, only two months after they started dating. Only three days later, Kate spotted him hugging Nicole, and word quickly got around that _she_ would be his date to prom.

Her mom let her have all the ice cream that night after she sobbed uncontrollably in her arms and her dad had a murderous look on his face as he helplessly watched his daughter so upset, unable to do anything about it.

Mathew is the fourth guy who truly hurt her. They dated for a whole eight months.

He asked her to be his date to his senior prom, and Kate, a year below him, was thrilled. Her friends looked at her with jealousy in their eyes as she showed them a photo of her in the dress, and gushed about how fantastic and magical it had been.

Her and Mathew even kept up their relationship over the summer, hanging out whenever possible. It was time for him to go to college, but he was staying in the area, and so they still got to see each other. But right before winter break, he called things off. He was going on a trip for three weeks, and didn't think their relationship would withstand that many days apart with no contact.

He told her all of this in a parking lot, and Kate smacked him, drawing attention their way. She turned around and stormed off, ignoring whatever Mathew calls after her – he was either begging her to come back or throwing insults her way, and Kate couldn't bear to hear either.

She hardly left her room for the next few days, but her dad managed to coax her out of it just in time for Christmas. And though it still hurt, the festive lights and decorations momentarily made her forget some of the hurt.

If those hadn't helped, the parties some guys invited her to who gave her cheap beer certainly did.

When her senior prom approached, she refused to hope for a date, instead convinced her friend group to not put themselves under so much pressure and go against the norm. Kate Beckett didn't want to find a boy to take to her senior prom, it was all just cheesy crap anyway. She was too cool for expensive dresses and cliché slow dances like those you saw in movies.

The fifth guy, Rogan, was really just there to make her forget a totally different kind of pain. Her mom wasn't there to hug it away anymore. They had a good few weeks together, loads of laughing – fake on her side – and maybe too much drinking and partying, but his presence couldn't make her forget the one person who was missing in her life. He was an idiot – she knew that when they started dating – but she only decided to end things when she broke down crying about her mother, and he offered her a pat on the back and a beer as consolation.

* * *

The sixth guy who failed her was her dad of all people. Losing your wife hurt, but so did losing your mother. And so Kate sought justice and comfort by burying herself in training and work, while Jim Beckett found it in a bottle.

And despite being angry with him for dealing with things the way he did, she carried him to bed every night, cleaned up vomit if necessary, and hugged him when he cried onto her shoulder just like she did on her mother's all those years ago.

Nothing seemed to soothe the ache she felt every day as soon as she woke up until the moment she fell asleep and even came to haunt her in her dreams. She failed seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, and it was probably not until the seventh guy who would hurt her arrived in her life that she began feeling slightly happier again.

Mike Royce gave her confidence that there was a key to unlock the mystery somewhere; she just had to find it. His guidance as training officer was crucial in making her a good cop, and she found herself genuinely laughing at one of his jokes after months and months of faking smiles and forced chuckles. Of course, years later, she would have to find out that a person she put so much trust in betrayed her.

Guy number eight failed her before she knew number seven would. Kate was working at the precinct when the handsome FBI agent entered her life during a gruesome kidnapping case. Nothing during that period made her lips quirk. But when they found the girl, dead, his arms wrapped around her, and some pieces of her heart mended back together.

The six months that followed made her hopeful again. She trusted him with details of her mother's murder she had never shared with anyone else, and he actually listened. He was the first guy she fully trusted again, and coming home to him after work was wonderful.

Kate Beckett didn't need someone to protect her, but when she was with Will Sorenson, she felt safe. Six months wasn't the longest relationship she had had, but this definitely was the most serious one she'd ever been in.

She managed to hide how upset she truly was when he left, but her logical thinking kept her from following him. Moving was off the charts for her – her dad was slowly improving, gradually recovering, but he was still at risk; she loved the city, and she knew this wouldn't be the last move if she agreed to go.

And Sorenson chose his job over her.

* * *

Kate was convinced that she was the one who failed the ninth one, not the other way round. In theory, Tom did everything right. His rivalry and awkwardness with Castle was annoying, but he cared for her, he was considerate, and really making an effort. But no matter how much she tried to tell herself he was a good, a safe choice, she couldn't convince her heart. He failed making her forget about the one person she denied she truly wanted to be with.

The tenth guy with great importance in her life was Josh. Looking back, she knows where they went wrong, knows that they weren't ever meant to be together. Perhaps she knew even all the way back then.

When Castle waltzed out of the precinct with his ex-wife glued to his arm, she pushed away all feelings she thought she might have for him for good... or so she thought.

Josh was a catch – doctor, responsible, handsome, caring, funny, charming. But his frequent absences made him inaccessible, made her think that he would rarely ever be there for her when it mattered. He wasn't who she needed after her shooting; he failed to be enough for her.

And just like Tom, he failed to distract her from who her heart truly belonged to.

Montgomery was a role model, a friend. She found strength in his leadership, admiration for his skills – until her world shattered and she had to piece it back together to forgive him in the last moments of his life. The eleventh time she was let down by a man of great importance to her.

At this point, Kate almost stopped believing that she would ever not be disappointed by the men in her life in some way or another.

* * *

But then _he_ became part of her life, and she gradually began to learn to trust again. He hurt her sometimes – unintentionally, but still – but he kept coming back. Despite any initial resentment, she let him in.

Richard Castle had been there for her before he even met her. His words comforted her even before she heard his voice for the first time, when the only way she knew his face was from the back of his books. Now, she knows every angle, line, and mark on this face like the back of her hand.

When he looked into her mother's murder, she hated him with every part of her soul, but he kept returning and earned her forgiveness. He was part of the reason she found Johanna Beckett's killer, part of the reason she discovered who was behind it. And it was his strength that kept her from going down that rabbit hole again, from allowing grief to dictate her life once more.

His childishness that once annoyed her so much soon managed to bring a smile to her face that she hid the second he looked her way.

The man who behaved like a kid on a sugar rush gave her all the space she needed when she asked for it, waited for her to fix herself with a patience she admired him for.

Unlike Jason, Rick always reappears at the swings, and she never had to sit by herself. Unlike Mr. Bennett, he encourages her to take on the biggest challenges. Unlike David, he takes her to prom. Unlike Mathew, he doesn't let distance come between them. Unlike Rogan, he knows how to have a good time, but also when to take her serious as well. Unlike her dad, he tackles her problems with her and doesn't allow her to be alone in her struggles. Unlike Mike Royce or Montgomery, he doesn't betray her trust. Unlike Sorenson, he always puts her first. Unlike Tom, unlike Josh, he is enough.

They had faced more and bigger obstacles than most other couples ever would, and yet they stuck with each other through it all, fought for each other, and continued to love each other.

Instead of putting his name on the list of men who failed her, she starts a new list; a list of men who she would always trust.

Castle's name is at the top.


	7. Chapter 7

**Prompt** (writing-prompt-s): _You've been dating your partner for six months. Tonight they've invited you to a work event, and as you step onto the red carpet, you realize it for the first time: you're dating a celebrity._

 _For Faith._

* * *

Their six month anniversary is next Tuesday.

Six months, and Kate isn't sure how time passed so quickly, how she feels like she's known him forever after just a few short months.

It's not the longest relationship she's had since her mother passed away, but it's definitely the most serious. Every single one before that was fleeting, meaningless, never meant to last. A way to feel a connection, _something_. But they would always fail sooner or later. And she knew very well who was to blame for never letting it get further than it had.

* * *

They met in the streets of New York. She was heading to a crime scene, while he was just mindlessly strolling through the streets, daydreaming. One of his habits, she would later learn. He bumped into her with full force, causing her to topple over and spill her fresh coffee, which stained her favorite beige coat.

The man wouldn't stop apologizing. He immediately pulled out tissues to help her dry her clothes as best she could, offered to replace the garment, or take it to dry cleaning, anything he could to make her forgive him.

Her repeated - and increasingly annoyed - assurance that everything was fine went ignored. And nothing was fine, anyway. The coat was new and now practically ruined, and her favorite hot bevarage was the only thing that she'd been looking forward to that day.

But at this point, she would have said anything to get this guy off her back. Sure, she thought, he was just trying to be polite. But without caffeine in her system and her bed still calling to her, his continued apologies just got on her nerves.

Even after she waved him off and continued walking in her original direction, he wouldn't stop following her, catching up with her to say sorry one more time. She just stared straight ahead, hoping that he would go away if she ignored him long enough.

But he wouldn't, just shot her guilty glances and opened his mouth every once in a while before apparently decided that another apology wouldn't make anything better. After a while, she just stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the street. Another stranger ran into her from the back, which would have definitely made her spill her coffee – if she still had one.

Unlike the other guy currently waiting besides her, however, this stranger just growled, passed her, and kept going his merry way. But not before he glared at her.

"Please," he draws her attention back in. "Just tell me what I can do to make this up to you."

She rolled her eyes. "For the last time, I said it's fine."

"I know what you said. Except your face tells me that it's anything _but_ fine," he commented.

Kate turned to face him, forced her lips into a smile. "There. My face says that everything is fine."

"You're not a really good actor", he commented.

"All I really want is my coffee." And with that, she resumed her walk. And he was still next to her.

"I can get you a new one?" he offered, and she huffed.

At this point, she'd finally made it to the crime scene. She knew she should have parked closer to it. Might have saved her from this conversation. And she'd probably be sipping her latte by now. Uniforms had already blocked any pedestrians from the immediate area and urged them to move on, but curious passengers still gathered along the yellow tape to catch a glimpse of the body. When an officer spotted her, he lifted it for her, dropping it back as the stranger tried to cross through it as well.

He had no choice but to stop following her.

"Maybe next time," she said sarcastically as she turned to look at him one final time.

"I'll take your word for it," he called after her.

Ryan and Esposito approached her the second she made it to the scene. After they made their jokes about her starting a new fashion trend with the brown stain on the front of her coat, they briefed her on their new case.

Routine kicked in, and soon, she'd forgotten all about that random guy from earlier.

Until the next day.

She couldn't believe her eyes when he appeared on her homicide floor. For a moment, she thought she was hallucinating. He actually already sat by her desk, greeting her with the widest grin. Friendly? Smug? A little stupid, she decided and refused to listen to the voice inside her head that told her it was attractive.

"How did you find me?" she inquired as she sat down at her desk, side eying him. She didn't have a chance to get a good look at him before, she had been too occupied trying to look elsewhere so he'd leave. Not bad looking, now that she thought about it. Friendly, faint lines around his eyes, showing her he laughed lots. Kate noticed that he noticed her observing him. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly fixed her gaze back on the computer in front of her.

The screen was black. There was no work to do, the case from yesterday one of the easiest solves in her entire career.

Appearing busy when she wasn't. Looking for a distraction when she was tempted to look at him again.

"Your cop friends," he replied after a long pause. Kate was grateful he had spoken, because it gave her the excuse she needed to turn towards him. She raised her eyebrows. "Already knew you were with the NYPD", he shrugged.

"Good work, Sherlock, what gave it away? The police tape and cop cars at the scene?" she remarked dryly, but she couldn't quite suppress the smile that claimed her face. She bit her lips.

He gasped dramatically, eliciting another eyeroll from her. "Consider me insulted." He didn't seem insulted at all. "Well, the dead body was my next sign. Oh, and your buddies told me."

She frowned. "My buddies?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Your cop buddies. I offered one of them my donut, and then it was all like 'oh, that's Kate Beckett, she's with the 12th'," he imitated one of the uniforms.

She pursed her lips. She was going to have to talk to her colleagues about bribery. And privacy. And giving her information out to random civilians.

"So now you're here to…. What?" she prompted.

"Take you out for coffee, of course," he replied cheerfully. He looked so pleased with himself. So happy and proud he managed to find her and take her up on her suggestion. Judging by his look, he knew she had been kidding, but he looked absolutely serious in his proposition.

Smile unwavering, he got up and looked at her expectantly. "Unless you've got work to do?" he asked and flicks his gaze to the still-black screen.

All the confidence in his stance and voice couldn't quite hide the uncertainty in his eyes. Worry that he'd pushed way too far.

Kate huffed. What the hell, she decided, and went with him. What did she have to lose? These past months have been quiet. And she was tired of quiet. She wanted loud.

The stranger's name is Rick, he informed her. Rick Rodgers. In an endless babble, he let her know that his mother named him after the musical legend. He told her that she still calls him Richard, but that he'd prefer the nickname. Unless she liked Richard better, in which case, she could use that of course. Or not.

She snickered.

She was surprised by how much she actually liked him within just a few minutes of chatting to him. Their conversation was easy, comfortable, and she never regretted going with him.

They headed to a coffee shop not too far from the precinct; after all, this was only her lunch break. And as they sat and talked, she found herself laughing, the first genuine laugh she managed in a long time.

"So, you already know where I work," she started and looks at him expectantly.

"Indeed I do," he confirmed with a smirk. "And it's a fascinating job, really."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Really?" she asked doubtfully. "You find working with dead bodies fascinating."

He chuckled. "Not working with them. Finding out what led to the dead body, that's what's fascinating. The story why there is a dead body to begin with. I find your work…. Inspiring."

She gave him a blank stare. Gruesome, dark, depressing, gross… all words that she'd heard describing her job before. Fascinating and inspiring had never been amongst the mix. Then she shook her head and snapped out of it, remembering why the subject even came up.

"Anyway," she tried again, and he leaned in, giving her his full attention. "Since you already know where I work, I think it's only fair you share that bit of information about you with me."

His eyes glinted, some kind of mischievous sparkle she didn't quite know how to interpret. She tilted her head, prompting him to reply. If that wouldn't work, she'd start applying interrogation techniques. But he just chuckled again, and replied without her having to do anything else.

"I work in publishing," was his brief response.

"Publishing, huh?" He nodded, and still didn't elaborate. "What kind of stuff do you publish?"

Rick shrugged. "The company I work for publishes all sorts of things. Books, mostly." She didn't say anything, and he continued. "Actually, I have crime stories on my desk all the time. Never one quite like yours though."

The conversation quickly moved on to other topics, and time passed by quicker than she thought.

She found that her lunch break was too short.

So were two lunch breaks. And three.

It was a relief when he finally asked if she'd accept anything besides coffee. Which she did.

It took mere days for them to cover the basics, and so she let him delve into her history faster than anyone before.

She isn't sure how he did it, but he crushed the wall she built up over years in just a few weeks, uncovered her well-hidden secrets and fears within the first two months of knowing him.

She expected that he'd run away as soon as he realized how damaged she was, but he never resented her, never pulled away.

Instead, she found strength in Rick's presence, and some of his optimism slowly rubbed off on her. A world that was grey for years was suddenly infused with just a bit of color. And then some more. She can't wait for the day when it's vibrant again.

And slowly – no, who was she kidding, there was nothing slow about it – she fell in love with him. That giddiness she always feels when she sees him, the excitement she can feel in her entire body, is something she hasn't felt since she was a teenager experiencing butterflies in her stomach for the first time.

* * *

He dropped by the precinct sometimes. Occasionally he asked about cases, listened attentively to everything she told him, even asked for small details she deliberately left out so he wouldn't be bored. Sometimes, he offered helpful hints – or ridiculous theories that made her roll her eyes, but smile stupidly as soon as she was sure he couldn't see it.

When her schedule allowed for it, she visited him at his office at Black Pawn, the company he worked for. His door was usually open, all distractions welcome ("really anything that gives me an excuse not to work for a moment"). Sometimes she just stood there for a bit, watched him as he stared at his screen intently, so concentrated and focused.

It's the same focus he always had when his hands were flying across the keyboard – editing, or writing an e-mail to authors, co-workers, other companies she assumed. In those moments, it was hard to grab his attention, even when she stopped silently observing and entered his office, the sound of her heels loud on the hardwood floors. He jumped once she was right next to him, placing a kiss to his cheek.

And his eyes lit up every time.

One time, she saw him frowning at his computer, rubbing his forehead, typing for just a few seconds before hitting the delete button with force. He groaned and muttered curses under his breath, and she'd never seen him this frustrated.

"Did the writer make a lot of mistakes?" she tried to lighten the mood, and his head whipped up. "Or is a co-worker being difficult?"

He forced his lips to curve upward, but she could tell the smile was strained. "Nah, the writer is definitely the issue."

"Anything I can do to help?"

This time, his smile was genuine. "You've already helped. So much."

She looked puzzled, but with that dorky grin she loved so much, Kate really didn't care that she didn't understand what he meant.

* * *

It's not quite their anniversary yet, but he's invited her to a 'special event' that takes place the Friday before.

He promised to take her on a proper date when the day rolls around, and there are things she's got planned as well that do not include an audience.

But for now, he has work obligations. Though they're more fun this time, and he won't be sitting hunched over a laptop for hours. He asked her if she'd accompany him to a slightly more fancy event, a chance to catch a glimpse of a more glamorous lifestyle that includes cocktail dresses and suits in the work attire.

"What kind of event is it anyway?" she inquires while he's over at her place the day before. "I know you said fancy, but still. What am I wearing this to?" she asks and gestures at the blue cocktail dress he brought over for her.

Kate protested when he handed it to her, something about being able to pick out her own outfit, but after checking her own closet, she realized it had been a lie. She was grateful. He probably knew she didn't have anything for the occasion.

"Book release party," he replies and hands her an invite.

 _Master of the Macabre – Richard Castle presents his newest mystery novel_.

"No way," she comments after the read the author's name.

His brow furrows. "You don't wanna come anymore?"

"Of course I do. Just pretty sure _he_ ," she emphasizes and waves the invite around, "doesn't."

Rick narrows his eyes at her. "What makes you so sure?"

She walks over to the couch where he's sitting, observing her with curiosity. She drops down next to him. "Because," she explains. "He's a private person."

"So?"

"So he's never shown his face publicly. All the interviews he gives - not that there are many to begin with - none of them have pictures. There isn't even one in the booksleeves. None on his website."

His eyes widen at that. "And you know this how?"

"Well," she murmurs. And she points over to her shelves. Rick doesn't see what she is referring to. He's seen the books before, skimmed through a few of the titles to have an idea of what kind of stuff she enjoyed reading in her free time. He'd never gone through every single one.

She points to the bottom right hand corner. Rick doesn't know how he could have missed it. Every single Castle book, in order of appearance.

He actually laughs out loud. "Hey," she scolds him with a push against his arm. "Don't mock me."

"So you're a fan?" He winks, coaxing an eyeroll.

"Of the genre."

"Right."

"Look," she begins, trying to divert she conversation away from her. "I'm just saying, this would be his first public appearance. And from what you've told me so far, there'll be press. And pictures. He won't be able escape that."

"And a red carpet," he adds.

"Exactly, a…," Kate stops. "Wait what?"

"Red carpet," he repeats. "It's a big party."

Her heartrate increases drastically. A red carpet. A spot where all attention is on whoever walks it. A place for celebrities. So not for them, certainly not for her. "There's another entrance, right?"

Rick shoots her an apologetic smile.

"Oh my god. Oh no, Rick, no," she hisses. "I can't."

"Hey," he hears his soothing voice as he pulls her into an embrace. "It'll be fine. You'll be great. You already look like a model, might as well be treated like one."

Kate huffs.

"If Richard Castle can do it, so can you," he jokes, and she giggles.

Maybe he's right. After all, it'd probably just be a quick walk down a red piece of fabric. No one cares about her. And although she knows how hard he works, probably few actually care about the editor or publisher. Would there even be that much attention on them? Won't they all be there for the star of the night? Maybe there would be one picture, just to make sure they won't miss out on photographing anyone important. A picture that will be on file and never used anywhere. So really, no need to make a big deal out of it.

"Alright," she mutters her agreement into his shoulder. He squeezes her tighter.

"Thank you," he whispers into her hair.

* * *

She feels giddy with excitement, like she's about to be picked up for her first prom by that senior she's had a crush on for forever.

Except she's an adult now, but that doesn't quell the nerves – oh god, she's actually nervous. She is an adult, a homicide detective, and here she is, chewing her lip and checking her reflection at every chance she gets.

Rick is supposed to pick her up any minute now. Right before she begins to impatiently tap her foot, she hears his knock on the door.

She practically runs over and yanks the door open.

"Hey." She sounds breathy.

"Hey." His voice cracks as looks her up and down. "Wow."

Her eyes take a sudden interest in the floor as she tries to control the blood flooding her cheeks. _Get it together, Kate_.

"Ready?" he asks and holds out an arm to her.

She doesn't respond, just nods and laces her arm through his, leaning into his side.

They ride the elevator down, talking in their usual comfortable manner. Rick holds the door open for her as they step out into the street.

Then she freezes.

"What's wrong?" he questions, already walking to the car and turning around to look at her.

No, not a car. A limousine. It's shiny and black, it's catches every bit of light even in the darkness, reflects it back and makes it sparkle.

There is a driver, but when he jumped out to open the door, Rick shewed him back to the driver's side.

She is gaping. "What is that?"

"A limousine," he answers with confidence, but then he kind of deflates. "Is it… is it too much?"

Kate is still too stunned. She knows he is well off, the loft and his expensive gadgets are indication enough, but she didn't expect _this_. Then again, she also didn't expect to be walking a red carpet. She reckons it might just be appropriate for the party.

She takes a moment to gather herself, to regain the composure she so easily lost. He's still watching her carefully, unsure of whether to approach or give her a minute. And she still hasn't said anything.

"Wow," she finally gets out.

His relieved laughter fills the air, echoes from the surrounding buildings.

She takes three more steps and climbs inside, Rick following shortly after and slamming the door shut.

She feels very out of place as the vehicle glides through the streets, and she's back to chewing her lips.

He seems to sense her growing unease and gently brushes his thumb across the back of her hand in calming circles.

"You'll be fine," he whispers into her ear, and his breath brushing her skin makes her tingly.

"I know, I'm with you," she murmurs without thinking. She didn't intend for the words to carry so much weight, but she realizes she means it. He's already seen her broken, and he always helped her mend. With him around, she knows that everything will turn out okay.

In his presence, she feels safe, protected – which is ironic, considering she is the one with a gun.

Kate closes her eyes and just enjoys being with him right now. She almost dozes off with her head against his shoulder. It almost escapes her notice, but then she feels that the hand he placed on her arm is clammy. Her right ear is pressed into his shoulder, and she can hear his heart racing. Quicker and stronger than normal. His breathing quickens.

"Hey." She raises her head and turns towards him, catching his eye. "You okay?"

"I'm with you," Rick tries to echo her words from earlier, but she just gently shakes her head. When he realizes she will wait for him to explain, his head drops back against the headrest with a sigh. "I might have bit off more than I can chew," he admits.

"What do you mean?"

The limousine slows. "We're here," the driver announces. "Let me get the door." He jumps out. The tinted windows protect them from sight, but she can already see the flashing lights outside. More than one photo, then.

"Look," she says, turning to him. "You'll be fine. We'll both be fine. We're doing this together."

Rick shoots her a tentative smile. "Like partners?"

"Partners," she confirms.

And then the door is opened.

* * *

She wasn't prepared. Not in the slightest. But one look at him tells her that he wasn't either.

Kate is stunned. The screams from photographers, and interviewers, all so loud that it sounds as though they're standing next to a roaring engine. The never-ending flashes disorient her.

She tries to make out individual voices, hoping to make sense of the situation she finds herself in, to ground herself back in reality.

"CASTLE" is the chant she can make out the most. "CASTLE, OVER HERE," another reporter yells over the masses. "RICHARD CASTLE!" She carefully turns around, seeing only a woman in front of them entering the building they're headed towards, no one behind them.

"CASTLE!"

There is no one but them, nobody else they could be calling out to.

Her eyes shoot up at him. His jaw has unclenched slightly, and he tries for a smile, looking around the crowd lining the carpet.

"Castle!" another voice calls, and Rick turns towards it.

"It's him!" "What made you decide to go public?" "What can be expect from the new Derrick Storm?" "Are you working on anything else?" "Who is your friend?" Her head is spinning.

"Over here!"

"OVER HERE!"

But he no longer looks over to the reporters yelling the questions. Instead, his eyes find hers. He smiles apologetically.

"Surprise?"

She narrows her eyes at him. She isn't mad, she's just… confused, still not sure if she understands correctly. But she must be, because the cameras don't stop flashing, and the reporters don't stop shouting.

"Inside," he says as if he's reading her mind. "I'll actually have a chance to hear you there."

"Rick!" a blonde woman calls. She strides towards them.

"Gina."

"Sorry, it's not every day a bestselling author finally reveals his face. I tried to keep press to a minimum, but you know…"

"Yeah," he says. "I figured."

"I know you're probably a bit uncomfortable, but just pose for a couple of pictures, and I'll get you inside."

He gives the woman a curt nod and moves further down the carpet, automatically pulling her with him with the hand he clings on so tightly. Rick looks at her, lips pressed together.

"Look, I'm sure Gina can already get you inside. You don't have to do this," he assures her, and loosens his grip.

"No." She holds on. "I said we're doing this together."

Because she might feel out of place, but he looks so lost, so insecure, and she is not planning on leaving him to fend for himself.

He mirrors the smile that has creeped onto her face. After a moment, he straightens up a bit. After a minute, that sparkle she loves so much returns to his eyes. After two, he pulls her in, drapes his arm around her waist, making the photographers go wild. After three, Gina is back with them, ushering them towards the entrance.

"Well done," Gina applauds with a pat on his back. Once they're inside, the deafening roar is nothing more than a soft mumble in the background.

Kate looks up at him only to find him already staring at her.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes before she can even get a word out. "I should have warned you."

"Yeah," she puffs.

"Are you mad?" he asks and turns so he can look at her properly. His forehead wrinkles, his eyes are filled with worry.

Her expression softens. "No, _Rick_ , I'm not mad. Just confused." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear that has fallen in front of her face. "I wish you would have warned me."

"I could have," he admits.

"Why didn't you?" she shoots back.

"I was worried."

"Worried about what?"

Rick sighs. "Didn't wanna scare you off," he mumbles. "I don't do these things," he says and gestures towards the entrance. "Never have. Never planned to."

"What changed your mind?"

He shrugs. "I guess I just thought it was time. I was tired of hiding behind a pen name. Tired of hiding from you."

She laughs. "You know you could have told me without throwing me or yourself in front of the press."

He smirks, tension slowly disappearing from his face. "Where's the fun in that?"

Kate playfully smack his side and he bursts into gleeful laughter. He tugs her with him, properly entering the venue. Almost immediately, they're surrounded by work colleagues asking all about the book she hasn't read yet, expressing their frustration with him for killing off Derrick Storm.

Her hand lets go of his, fingers flying up to her ears as if that could make her un-hear that bit of information.

Of course he notices. As does everyone else around them.

"Spoiler alert?" he tries.

"Oh, so she's a fan?" Gina inquires.

"Of the genre," he replies jokingly. She gives up and drops her hands.

"I'm not sure I can forgive you for not warning me this time," she hisses. "Why'd you kill him?!"

His lips curve upward. "I'll explain later."

The rest of the evening is pleasant, fun even. Since he officially revealed himself to the world, every few minutes a colleague comes over to congratulate him. Or one of the few reporters with VIP access, who Gina sends to the other side of the room as soon as she spots them, holding them off with the promise of a brief Q&A later on.

"Can't believe you think my job is fascinating when you've got this," she jokes and motions around the room, filled with people sneaking a glance at him at every chance they get. She's on her third glass of wine, and the alcohol calms her nerves, distracts her from the fact that more or less everyone's eyes are on him the entire evening. And since he refuses to leave her side, they're on her too.

"I'd have nothing to write about without your job," he states. "Or without you," she hears, but before she can come back to that, Gina drags him over to a small stage that has been set up. Kate sticks to the back of the group, watching him as he stands there like a statue with a mic he grips so firmly his knuckles turn white.

"Richard Castle will now be taking your questions for the next thirty minutes", the blonde woman informs the crowd. At first, everybody shouts out their question simultaneously, causing him to whip his head from right to left, unsure of whose to listen to first. Thankfully, Gina takes charge, picking out individuals and handing them her mic.

He masters the questions fired at him surprisingly well. And, as time goes on, he becomes more confident, slowly turns more into the man she knows. He looks particularly pleased when he makes one of his stupid jokes, and the audience rewards him with cheers and laughter.

"Final question!" It takes a moment for the blonde to choose the lucky interviewer. When he is handed the microphone, silence falls across the room.

"What now? Any new projects in mind?"

Rick's eyes scan the crowd, until they land on her. He smiles. "Yes, actually. I'm pleased to announce Black Pawn has already approved my proposal of a new series with an entirely new character. But I won't give too much away just yet. For tonight, let's focus on honoring Derrick Storm one last time."

He steps down from the podium to thundering applause. Immediately, he makes his way over to her.

"How did I do?"

"You were great," she smiles and hands him a glass of champagne.

"Thanks," he breathes and swiftly downs more than half of the content in one go. "I needed that."

Kate chuckles. "Ready to face your audience again?" she teases, and points to a group of people approaching him, remaining some distance away from him so as not to disturb, but close enough to show they are waiting to talk to him.

He drinks the rest of the champagne before turning around, whispering "get me another" before he goes over to greet his guests.

* * *

They're exhausted.

He, Rick Rodgers, or Richard Castle, or whatever everyone wants to call him now, was the center of attention all night. And since she was within close proximity the entire time, she was too.

Their faces ached from smiling so much, their hands were sticky from shaking everybody else's. And she's pretty sure half her makeup disappeared from one of her cheeks where he kept placing chaste kisses. That part she didn't mind so much.

They go back to her place, giving her the feeling of normalcy again. They fall into bed straight away. She curls into his side, tracing lazy circles over his torso and he hums. She can't hold back a ridiculous giggle, too loud in the dark room.

"Are you okay?" He looks at her with concern.

Maybe it's the wine. Or the champagne. Or the combination of both. Maybe it's the red carpet, or having to smile for hours on end, or because this entire evening still feels surreal to her.

"I'm dating a celebrity," she manages to get out before breaking into another fit of giggles.

Rick grunts. "Don't call me that. I just write."

"Rick, please. After everything that happened today, you can't deny you're quite famous. You're a constant bestseller." He doesn't say anything. "So," she singsongs, trying to change topics slightly. "Who's the new character?"

He laughs. "What makes you think I'm going to tell you before anyone else?" he teases. He lays back and crosses his arms behind his head, pretending to not pay any more attention to her.

Kate grins. Challenge accepted. She leans over, kisses his cheek. "Well, maybe…" She gently brushes her lips to the side of his neck. "I could," she whispers, sealing her lips to his, "convince you?" Her voice is sultry, luring him.

"Not fair," he protests, his voice hoarse, before fusing their mouths again. She presses her body closer to his. "Fine," he relents. "I'm writing about a homicide detective."

"Oh?"

Even in the barely-lit bedroom, she can see the love pouring out his gaze as he continues speaking. "She's gonna be really smart. Kinda savvy. Really good at her job. Haunting good looks." She can't help it, she kisses him again. "You're my inspiration."

"I'm flattered," she says honestly, slowly climbing on top of him. All exhaustion has left her suddenly. She just wants to spend the rest of the night showing him how much she loves him, how lucky she is to have him in her life.

"I'm gonna have to do character research," he breathes out.

She rolls her hips. "That can be arranged. What are you gonna call her?"

He snickers. "No kiss and tell." She looks disappointed. "But I'll give you a hint," he offers as he moves beneath her. "You're really living up to her name right now."

She can't really suppress the moan that escapes her.

"You better not give her a stripper name," she groans, but she forgets everything about it when he flips her over and pins her beneath him.

* * *

When she sees his first draft and spots the name, she nearly slaps him. When the cover art is released, she snaps at him.

And when they make up at night, she has to admit the name is kind of growing on her.


End file.
